


When One Door Closes

by storyplease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 59,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyplease/pseuds/storyplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione realizes that she cannot produce a patronus, and sets about finding a way to set things right.  Will the Room of Requirement hold the key or has she bitten off more than she can chew?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter in Her Heart

"It's hopeless! Utterly hopeless!" Neville groaned as he dropped his Advanced Potions textbook loudly onto the table and fell back into his chair. 

 

" _ Neville _ !  _ Shhhh _ !" Hermione hissed from behind a massive tome. "Madam Pince will revoke our library privileges if you keep carrying on like this!"

 

Neville paled. 

 

"Ugh," he whispered, "That woman terrifies me."

 

"Says the bloke who killed Voldemort's big bloody snake. That’s rich, Neville," Hermione shot back, her eyes growing sympathetic when her friend flinched at her usage of the dark wizard's name. "Oh,  _ Neville _ , it's fine to say it now he's dead."

 

"That's what everyone said last time," Neville replied, looking worriedly out into the stacks as though the Dark Lord was about to appear and  _ Crucio _ them both for Hermione's flippant manner. "Contrary to what you all might think, I'm not a coward. I just know that most of the time, when someone says that it's all over, it is usually just the beginning of something else."

 

Hermione placed her hand over her friend's quivering fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

 

"We got them all, Neville.  Every last Horcrux. Merlin himself wouldn't be able to come back from that."

 

Neville ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. He was no longer the portly child with permanently puffy red cheeks, but there was still an underlying softness about him that made him seem so vulnerable, even though he was now more than a head taller than Hermione. 

 

"I know, I know, it's just...I was born into a world where You-Know-er-V-Voldemort was this huge, terrifying presence," Neville said softly, avoiding Hermione's piercing gaze and staring at his hated Potions textbook as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I'm not sure I know how to get rid of that fear in the back of my head."

 

"Do what I always do," Hermione replied. "Focus on something more pressing... like your Potions homework."

 

"Argh!  Did you really have to remind me?" Neville groaned. "I'm doomed,  _ doomed _ , I tell you!  Why did I ever think that pursuing an apprenticeship in Herbology was a good idea?"

 

"It  _ is _ a good idea! I did some research, and did you know that Professor Sprout hasn't taken on an apprentice in over a decade? You have to be remarkable if she's willing to vouch for you, especially since you're not even in her House!" Hermione exclaimed, wincing as the dreaded Madam Pince burst forth, seemingly out of nowhere, and swooped down on them. The librarian wore her familiar sour, pinched expression as she silently pointed a gnarled finger in the direction of the exit.

 

"C'mon Neville," Hermione pouted, stuffing everything into her rucksack, "We need to get down to the Forbidden Forest to gather ingredients for our Sundown Potion anyway."

 

"Ugh, why did we get stuck with the potion that requires freshly gathered ingredients that can only be picked during sunset?" Neville whined as he followed her with his book slung under one arm. 

 

" _ Silence _ !" Madam Pince hissed, causing him to squeak loudly and drop his book. 

 

Hermione groaned inwardly. Now they'd be banned for a month, and that's if they were lucky. If it weren’t for Professor McGonagall giving her brightest Transfiguration Apprentice access to her personal library, Hermione would have likely broken down at being denied access to her favorite place at Hogwarts. 

 

It hadn't been easy coming back to Hogwarts to make up her last year without her two best friends. Harry and Ron still had trouble visiting the school after all that had happened; there were just too many painful memories. Hermione had helped rebuild after the War had finally been won, and in some ways, Hogwarts was now her home more than ever before, especially with her parents still in Australia and no other family living nearby. 

 

Neville was a good friend, but he was a terrible study partner and absolute pants at anything more adventurous than taking tea an hour late. Though the war had changed him, as it had changed them all, Neville Longbottom was still the kind, soft hearted person he'd always been. The fact that he'd risen to the occasion under duress had brought him more than a little fame, but he still balked at heights and shared Ron's phobia of spiders. Despite his occasional nightmare (which, to be honest, had been fairly regular even before the War), Neville was moving on. He was even assisting Professor Sprout in developing a new treatment to reverse spell damage, one that had already been showing promising results in tests on spell-damaged mice.  Though he was still shy and easily intimidated, there was an ease in the way he carried himself and a gentle warmth that emanated from his smile.

 

Sometimes, Hermione wondered when her nightmares would finally end, and if she too would ever be able to smile without reservation once more.

 

“Come  _ on _ , Neville!” Hermione protested irritably as she refreshed her Warming Charm. “The Forbidden Forest isn’t forbidden to Seventh Year students, you know. The sooner we gather the ingredients, the sooner we can get back inside where it’s warm.”

 

“It sure does get dark early around this time of the year,” Neville replied uneasily, his teeth chattering together as he tightened his scarf. “ _ Merlin _ , it’s cold out here.”

 

“Oh,  _ honestly _ !” Hermione huffed, casting a Warming Charm on her friend as well. “For that you’re going to gather the wild Spotted Snapdragons in  _ addition _ to the Scandinavian Red-Capped Mushrooms. There should be some in the clearing ahead.  Remember, you’re going to need at least four full-flowering heads and be sure to fill the vials if you can, just in case there are...er...accidents. I’ll be over here taking bark shavings from each of these dogwood trees.”

 

Hermione stomped over to the trees she’d scouted out and rubbed her hands together.  She refreshed her Warming Charm again and swore.  Nothing she seemed to be doing was working.  Her breath poured from her mouth in great clouds of musky heat, and she could practically see small bits of frost spreading through her hair.  And if that wasn’t bad enough, she felt herself being slowly filled with a great emptiness and endless despair.

 

“Oh  _ god _ ,” she said, whirling around just in time to see the dark, awful thing descending from where it had been hiding above the treeline towards her. Drawing her wand, she shouted, “ _ Expecto Patronum _ !”

 

Her heart swooped terribly when nothing happened, not even a tiny burst of mist from the tip of her wand.

  
“ _ Expecto Patronum _ !” she shouted more loudly, summoning up the same thought she’d used ever since that fateful day in the Room of Requirement when she’d finally summoned her otter Patronus.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“ _ Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum _ !” Hermione shouted, more and more hysterically as her wand fizzled and spat but did not produce anything more than a couple of glowing, silvery sparks.

 

And then, suddenly, a giant roar came from behind her and a massive silver lion charged through her body and beat back the Dementor, which screamed horribly as it fled.

 

“Hermione! Are you ok?”  Neville shouted, crashing through the underbrush towards the startled witch.

 

“You never told me that your Patronus was a lion, Neville!” Hermione replied, agape.

 

“Well, it wasn’t...er...I mean, I’ve never actually produced a corporeal Patronus before,” he replied sheepishly, “It just sort of... _ happened… _ ”

 

“ _ Neville _ ! These things don’t just  _ happen _ . What memory did you use?” Hermione demanded. “I seem to be having the exact opposite problem. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to cast a Patronus at all.”

 

“Well..um...it’s kind of embarrassing,” Neville said, turning red.

 

“Neville, I’ve seen you in all manner of embarrassing situations, and you know I’ve  _ never _ laughed at you,” Hermione retorted. “ _ Please _ ? I promise, I won’t say a word.”

 

“Well, you see… last week, my hat flew into the lake again, and the giant squid was playing with it and... well, Luna appeared and... then she asked the squid nicely and it gave her the hat back... and I told her that in exchange for helping me, I’d do anything she wanted as thanks.”

 

“And?” Hermione said, unimpressed, her arms crossed.

 

Neville’s hat had fallen into the Black Lake at least twenty times throughout his time at Hogwarts.  Hermione wasn’t surprised that the Giant Squid had developed a fondness for it.

 

“Well, Luna... she... she asked for a kiss, you see…” Neville trailed off and grinned nervously, his cheeks scarlet.

 

“I see,” Hermione replied, grinning back at him. “Neville, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about! In fact, you should be proud!”

 

“So,” Neville continued, “I just thought of how it felt when I... when we... and…”

 

“You know, I read that Godric Gryffindor’s Patronus was also a lion, Neville!” Hermione said thoughtfully as she finished grabbing the strips of bark from the tree as she’d originally intended, “It’s really quite rare!”

 

Neville just grinned sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair out of nervous habit.

 

With the Dementor gone, Hermione’s Warming Charm was enough to keep them both toasty until they’d finished gathering ingredients and headed back towards the castle.

 

“Neville?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can you think of any place in the castle that’s out of the way where I could practice on my Patronus?” Hermione asked. Her eyes widened as it suddenly came to her. “No, actually, I think I have the perfect place in mind.”

 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Neville asked, his voice full of the hope that Hermione would not take him up on his offer.

 

“No, I think I should probably do this on my own,” Hermione replied with a small smile.

 

“Well, Luna said she’d meet me over near the Great Hall,” Neville replied. “I don’t want to keep her waiting…”

 

“Well, before you get ahead of yourself, give me those ingredients,” Hermione said, holding out her hand.

 

Neville hurriedly handed her the surprisingly full vials. Hermione smirked as he jogged off towards the large double doors leading into the Great Hall with a noticeable spring in his step. 

 

She pulled out her wand and waved it back and forth like a conductor as she climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower to drop off her bag. Her heart surged with relief when colored sparks erupted from the end just as it had the day it had chosen her.  She tucked it securely in her robes and focused on the moving staircase. They seemed to be in a particularly mischievous mood, joyfully shifting to the wrong landing every time Hermione tried to switch staircases to get to her destination. Finally, she just stood on one step and tapped her foot impatiently. 

 

"Ok, ok, you've had your fun," she said, crossing her arms, "but unless you really wish to be  _ Stupefied _ , I suggest you allow me to go on my way."

 

The stairs creaked in a decidedly disappointed manner before moving to give her a clear path up to Gryffindor tower. 

 

"Thank you," she whispered, stroking the banister like a dog's head. "I'll let you play with me on the weekend when I'm not so busy, ok?"

 

The stair under her feet creaked excitedly, and Hermione smiled at how easily she could bring joy, or, at least as much joy that an inanimate object could feel, to others. 

 

It seemed that the only one to whom such positive feelings were elusive was herself. The thought that she might never be able to watch her silver otter gambol through the air made her heart ache with sadness. It only doubled her resolve to figure out how to overcome it. 

 

"Wow!" tittered a couple of incredibly tiny First Years that Hermione hadn't noticed from behind her, "We didn't know that the stairs did what you said!"

 

Hermione turned and smiled uncertainly, wondering for the hundredth time if she had really ever been so small.

 

"They don't, though," Hermione replied with a small smile, "I just asked nicely, that's all. And they like it when you let them toy with you a bit from time to time.  I imagine that being a magically mobile staircase can get downright boring at times."

 

"Wow, none of that was in  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , and I should know because I read it twice from cover to cover!" a somewhat willowy blonde girl squeaked. 

 

"I've been telling the Headmistress that it is sorely in need of revision. Sadly, she is still very busy with the absolute beastly amount of paperwork that the Ministry has required in order to reimburse the school for all of the damage it received last year," Hermione replied, wincing a bit at the Know-it-All tone in her voice. "Your name, Miss-?"

 

The First Year flushed bright pink and beamed nervously, her wide eyes artificially huge behind round glasses. 

 

"The name's Penny. Penny Pennyweather," the girl said excitedly as she pushed her book awkwardly under one arm and thrust out a hand for Hermione to shake. 

 

Hermione took the girl's hand, marveling at how much this girl reminded her of herself in her first year, though, to be honest, she would have killed to have such satiny smooth hair. 

 

"Well, then, Miss Pennyweather, it looks like you may indeed be a good candidate to catalogue the discrepancies, that is, if you're up to the challenge!"

 

"Y-yes, Miss! I would be honored!" Penny squeaked, looking all the world as though she was about to faint from the utterly jubilant energy that had filled her at being asked to help the legendary Hermione Granger.

 

Hermione smiled back gently, trying to put the girl at ease, but this only seemed to excite her further. 

 

"You'll want to hurry and drop off your school bags," she said finally, "The Great Hall will be opening for the evening meal soon."

 

"Yes, Miss!" The three children chorused together, running past her and chattering excitedly. 

 

Hermione gave them space and was glad that there was no sign of hyperactive First Years when she entered the common room. She dropped her things off in the Head Girl's room and hurried out to the blank stretch of wall on the fifth floor across from the trolls in tutus. 

 

"Come on, come on," she muttered nervously, pacing in front of the smooth stone. 

 

_ I need a place where I can produce a Patronus. I need a place where I can produce a Patronus. I need a place where I can produce a Patronus. _

 

It took her nearly fifteen minutes of fervently thinking this singular thought over and over again before a large, black door materialized where none had been before. Hermione frowned.  This door looked very different than the one that had been there before. She reached into her robes and felt for the tiny beaded handbag that she'd taken to carrying everywhere under her clothing. It had taken some time to track it down after she'd dropped it in the woods, but it was like a part of her after all she'd been through. It was filled with books on fighting, healing and various lore that might come handy in a conflict. It also contained food that had been carefully preserved using Stasis spells and hundreds of unbreakable vials of potions she'd made or purchased. There were four vials of an extra-potent form of Dittany. 

 

She'd helplessly watched a man bleed to death once and had vowed that it would never happen again if she could help it. 

 

Hermione liked to think that she was over the fear and paranoia that had plagued her for the year they'd lived out of the tent, but if she was honest with herself she had to admit that it had never really gone away. She still slept with her wand under her pillow and kept the handbag fastened around her waist at all times. 

 

"Oh, I'm sure I'm just being silly!" She scolded herself, pressing a hand tentatively against the door and stifling a cry when she felt how cold it was. 

 

Something felt horribly wrong. A little voice in her head was screaming that she should leave, should join Neville and Luna in the Great Hall and wait until later to worry about her inability to summon a Patronus. 

 

It wasn't that she was sad or couldn't summon the proper memories. However, when she really thought about it, she couldn't actually remember the last time any of those memories brought her joy when she thought about them. Even that first dawn, after they'd emerged victorious against Voldemort, had held no levity for her when she'd beheld its gorgeous spectrum of colors bursting through the wide expanse of the clear morning sky. 

 

Her stomach churned as she entertained the thought that maybe this was permanent. Maybe this was her new normal. That she would be doomed to a life without the ability to feel any positive emotions deeper than a fleeting sense of satisfaction when she achieved a goal. 

 

The thought was even more terrifying than anything she could imagine waiting for her on the other side of the door. She knew, then, that she would do  _ anything _ to feel the warmth and safety fill her with a surety and satisfaction, secure in the thought that all was right with the world. 

 

Anything, anything at all to still the sickening fear that encircled her heart.

 

Gritting her teeth together with determination, Hermione turned the freezing iron door knob with all of her strength and disappeared inside. 


	2. The Man With Nothing To Lose

 

He couldn’t sleep again.  But this was not a new phenomenon.  His dark figure wandered the empty, dark hallways of Hogwarts like a wraith, though his heart still beat and his chest still rose and fell at an even pace.  

 

For all intents and purposes, this place was his prison, his punishment.  He was to do his penance here, unpaid, until his duty was at an end or he drew his last breath.  The Vow had been made and there was nothing he could do about it.  Pessimistically, he began to wonder if it wouldn’t simply be preferable to brew a potion that would finish things more quickly than ten long years of putting up with insufferable students just to save a child who, with his luck, probably looked and acted just like his horrible bully of a father.

 

The thought made him more miserable than ever, which made him all the more certain that his premonition would be completely true.

 

Still, he knew that he couldn’t end his own life.  Severus Snape was many things, but a quitter was not one of them.  He’d relentlessly held onto his miserable excuse of a life through more extreme hardship than this.  Though his heart still ached horribly when he thought of how Lily must have died, how her death was  _ his _ fault, how...if he had just  _ listened _ to her when she’d told him he was spending time with terrible people who did terrible things…he shuddered in the dark, silently allowing the tears to travel down his cheeks where no one would see them.  There were too many things he’d done wrong.  There was no hope to truly make up for them.  The only thing for it was to minimize the damage and hope for the best.  

 

The worst thought of all was the one that kept telling him, in a voice that sound suspiciously like the Dark Lord himself, that it was far too late for a wretch like himself to ever be redeemed.

 

He could no longer produce a Patronus, corporeal or otherwise. And even though his Dark Mark had faded to a nearly unintelligible smear on his arm, the inability to summon the silvery doe had nearly shaken him to the core.

 

His feet brought him up sleeping staircases until he’d nearly reached the empty Gryffindor Tower, where he’d pleaded and begged for Lily to forgive him.  He did not finish climbing the stairs.  He didn’t need any more ghosts haunting him on this somber night.

 

When he finally reached the fifth floor landing, the darkness had begun to feel oppressive, and he pulled his wand from his robes, silently calling up tiny blue lanterns that floated around his head silently.

 

It was then that he noticed the door.

 

Large, black and somewhat out of place on the blank stretch of wall, Severus frowned as he stared at it.  A quick diagnostic spell proved that the door itself was real, but not what lay beyond it.  And when he touched the knob, he hissed loudly as the cold bit his fingers.

 

He was ready to go and rouse Albus, regardless of whether or not it was the middle of the night, when he heard a terrified female voice from inside.

 

“Please!” the voice called out, “Anybody! If you’re there, please help!”

 

The voice didn’t sound like Lily, or at least, not like the Lily he’d heard laugh gaily in his Potions class until he’d graduated, back when he had done his best to be invisible and stay away from her just as she’d demanded of him.  But he was seized by a righteous energy to help whoever was trapped inside, no matter what it meant.

 

_ And if I end up being ended at last by whatever creature awaits me inside, it will at least not be at my own hand and at the service of someone in distress. _

 

The thought was far more comforting than he had expected it to be. With a determined grimace, Severus grabbed the knob and ignored the biting cold metal as he wrenched the door open and continued on into the darkness within.

 


	3. Fighting One's Demons

 

**** Hermione was freezing cold.  She’d tried a Warming Charm twice, but she still felt as though she was slowly turning to ice. Her toes had gone numb ages ago, but she still kept pushing onward even as her joints slowly frozen painfully in place.  She was in a dark, seemingly endless frozen forest.  There was no moon, no stars, just blackness above the skeletal trees, which filled her with a crushing sense of claustrophobia and dread.

 

So far, for all her walking, she’d not encountered another soul, nor had she seen any monsters or malevolent creatures.  She thanked Merlin for that, at least. From time to time, she called out to see if she could find anyone, friend or foe.  She’d circled back, following her footprints until they disappeared, but could not find the door she’d entered.

 

In short, she was trapped with limited food and supplies and the slowly falling snow didn’t seem to be a very good candidate for a reliable water source.  

 

She called out once more before sitting down on a snow-covered log and pulling a small wax-wrapped sandwich from her robes.  She ate in small, measured bites, and though the sandwich tasted delicious, it gave her no pleasure at all. 

 

“Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy,” she mused to herself, “After all, I got out of the war relatively unscathed.  So many lost their lives, their health….their families…”

 

She thought back to her parents and how she’d been unable to fix their memories and how Australia’s equivalent of the Ministry was unwilling to help muggles with spell damage. It hadn’t helped that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been upset when she’d shown up on their doorstep.  She’d left Crookshanks to look after them.  At least he’d remembered her.  To some extent, that made it all the more horrible, because it reminded her that she’d done such an extreme thing to the two people she loved most in the entire world instead of talking to them about it.

 

“And now, they may well be gone forever,” she said sadly, hot tears dripping off of her nose and onto her sandwich bread, “Oh...I’m being silly...talking to myself and crying about things I can’t change...things that are all my fault.”

 

“Are you...alright?” a somewhat gruff voice said from behind her, and she nearly fell off of the log as she twisted around, pulling her wand and casting a Shield Charm as her sandwich flew to the snow-covered ground.

 

The young man who’d spoken had drawn his wand as well, pulling up a Shield Charm of his own.  For a moment, they stared in silence at one another, both on full alert and expecting an attack from the other, before Hermione noticed the little blue lanterns floating around his head.  And a tiny voice in the back of her head told her that he looked somehow familiar, which made her feel less afraid. Both of them lowered their wands and looked at each other, their mouths still slightly open with surprise.

 

“Are you... _ real _ ?” Hermione said, her eyes wide as she looked over his young, hawk-like face for signs that he might be out to do her harm.

 

“Last I checked,” he replied with a shrug, “What about you?”

 

“Well, of course  _ I’m _ real!” Hermione replied, sniffing loudly in the cold air, “Otherwise, why would I ask you if  _ you _ were real?”

 

“It’s the exact sort of thing a figment of my imagination would say,” the unknown man replied.  He was obviously an adult, but he still had youthful features, which gave him the appearance of having been in school very recently.

 

“Are you a student at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked gently, trying another tack, “I haven’t seen you around.”

 

“No,” he replied, hiding his eyes behind his long, black hair, “I’m not a student. But I used to be.”

 

His words felt loaded with a sadness that Hermione could practically feel, but she felt uncomfortable prying.  Her mind raced as she tried to think of something to say.

 

“Oh, that explains it, then,” Hermione replied, smiling awkwardly.  She felt so fake for doing so when all she wanted to do was feel miserable and sorry for herself, but she didn’t want to drive off the only company she’d been able to find in hours.  And at least he wasn’t trying to kill her or force himself on her or something like that.  Though as she looked him over in his black robes, which did nothing but accentuate how thin and tall he was, she doubted seriously that he would be much of a threat without a wand.

 

“How long have you been here?” he asked in a way that nearly sounded accusatory.  It was obvious to Hermione that he didn’t have much of a sense of tact and she could empathise with that, but she bristled a bit anyway.

 

“It’s been awhile,” she admitted, trying not huff loudly in irritation, “But I’m here for a reason. I don’t think the Room would have made this place for me if I didn’t need it.”

 

“You  _ asked _ the Room of Requirement to make a frozen forest so you can die of hypothermia?” he replied, arching an eyebrow as he crossed his arms to conserve heat, “Of all of the daft things I’ve ever heard-”

 

“That’s  _ not _ what I did!” Hermione shouted, inwardly smirking when his eyes went wide and he backed up, obviously intimidated by her aggressive outburst. “I….I can’t summon a corporeal Patronus.”

 

Something flickered behind his dark eyes as they narrowed, sizing her up.  Surprise? Commiseration?  Hermione was not sure.

 

“Not many witches or wizards bother to learn how to summon a Patronus, much less a corporeal one,” he replied, finally. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly not something you should banish yourself away to whatever horrible place this is because you cannot do it.”

 

“But...I  _ could _ !” Hermione replied, her hands balling into fists as she held back angry tears, “I’ve been able to summon a corporeal Patronus ever since I was in fifth year!”

 

His eyes widened.

 

“Intriguing,” he replied, stroking his pointed chin, “May I ask what form it took?”

 

“A sea otter,” Hermione replied easily, “But...now..look.”

 

She pointed her wand, mustered up the most positive thoughts she could imagine and shouted “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

 

A tiny fizzle of light sparked from the tip of her wand but nothing else happened.

 

“I see,” he said, frowning.

 

“I’m Hermione,” she said, extending her hand. “I know we’re not exactly meeting under the best of conditions, but it’s nice not to be alone.  I was beginning to talk to myself.”

 

He took her hand and shook it awkwardly, as though not used to the gesture.  His hand was warm and dry, unlike her frozen fingers, which were almost blue with the cold.  She nearly moaned with pleasure at the warmth and he pulled his hand back as though he’d been bitten.

 

“Are you...all right?” he asked concernedly.

 

“Just...a bit cold..” Hermione replied, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. “My Warming Charms don’t seem to be helping much.”

 

As she met his eyes with her own, she couldn’t help but wonder where she’d seen him before.  He was taller than she was and had quite a sallow, pale complexion, but that could describe hundreds of students in the years above her in school.  Hermione was somewhat mortified to admit that she barely knew any Gryffindor students outside of her own year, much less the names of students from other Houses.  And from the quiet, calculating look of the young man before her, she very much doubted he was Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.  But he didn’t act like Draco or the other Pure-blooded snobs from Slytherin.  Maybe Ravenclaw then?  Hermione racked her brain but she couldn’t even seem to remember one name.

 

“This is going to sound kind of weird,” she began as he stared back quietly, waiting for her to speak, “But I think I know you. I just can’t place your name.”

 

His eyes seemed to darken for a moment, lines appearing in the corners of his eyes before he finally looked up again with a conflicted, guarded expression.

 

“Just call me...er...Prince.  That’s my surname,” he said, his eyes darting to the ground.

 

That seemed familiar too.  It was so odd, though, because for some reason, Hermione also felt like he was being truthful without actually being truthful.  It was so paradoxical, that it almost took her mind off the cold.

 

Almost.

 

“Well, I guess that’s enough of a rest for me!” she said with a false sense of brightness, jumping up and trying to jog in place to get some feeling back in her legs. “I near froze solid sitting here!”

 

“Allow me to accompany you, Hermione,” he said softly, giving her a small, inexplicably sad smile, “It will be beneficial to both of us if we encounter anything...dangerous.”

 

Hermione felt a shiver go up her back at the silky sound of his voice.

 

It was so familiar, it was almost scary.

 

She studied his guarded expression and decided that even if he was obviously hiding something from her, he was also offering his help and company, which were both things that she sorely needed.

 

“I don’t think I can refer to you as ‘Prince,’ though,” Hermione said skeptically, “Not without feeling unbearably silly.”

 

“And we can’t have that,” he replied a bit sardonically. Moments later, his eyes widened and his cheeks went scarlet as he realized he’d actually said it aloud.

 

Hermione snickered despite herself, and he looked incredibly relieved.  His body seemed to sag with relief.

 

“Er...sorry,” he mumbled, wringing his hands, “Sometimes things just...slip out.”

 

“Don’t worry,” she replied, “I’ll have you know that I’ve endured far more boorish behavior than that in my lifetime. Besides, the odd quip here or there reminds me of...well...I’d rather not say. It’ll just make me cry like a ninny again.”

 

He said nothing in reply but nodded slightly as though silently commiserating with her.

 

“So...do you have a first name, then?” Hermione continued, giving him a hopeful, big-eyed look.

 

He gave her a reluctant look.

 

“Come  _ on _ .  It can’t be  _ that _ bad!” she said impatiently, “I know a boy named Neville  _ Longbottom _ ! Yours can’t be more embarrassing than that!”

 

“You can call me…” he trailed off, looking somewhat stricken, “Just call me Se...Sev. Just Sev.  Does that work for you?”

 

“There! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Hermione replied, beaming. “It’s nice to meet you, Sev.  I just wish it was under slightly less depressing circumstances.”

 

“Agreed.  The faster we can get out of here, the better,” he replied, looking around watchfully.

 

They began to walk, and before long had left the clearing far behind them.  Small things seemed to move just out of their eyesight and from time to time, strange calls that sounded like a cross between a beast and a bird emanated from off in the distance.  Hermione pressed close to her quiet companion, both of them with their wands held down and at the ready. Still, they did not encounter another soul as they continued on their way.

 

“So, how did you find me?” Hermione asked, after a time.  She found the silence to be almost more unnerving than the possibility of giving their location away to some strange beast.

 

“I heard you calling out for help,” he replied, shrugging, “And then the door appeared and I went inside.  And here I am.”

 

“Wow.  You didn’t even think twice, did you?” Hermione replied, impressed. “How brave!”

 

“More like suicidal,” her retorted with a rueful snort, giving her a sidelong glance, “But yes, I suppose it was...in a way.”

 

“I’ll have to thank you with a proper meal once we’ve found our way out,” Hermione said with a small smile, “Because I was starting to think I’d be lost and alone forever.”

 

“Better to be lost and with company, then?” he replied, smirking back.

 

“Definitely,” she said, looking up at him and studying his features. Her mind was still whirring with the desire to know where she’d seen him before.  And a not-so-little voice in the back of her head was beginning to admit that she found him to be quite enjoyable company as far as company was concerned.  And even the lank, dark hair and scrawny build wasn’t enough to take away from the purposeful way that he walked and the somewhat hypnotic sound of his voice when he spoke.

 

_ This isn’t good.  At this rate, I’m going to develop a crush on a near stranger and it’s going to be even more awkward than it already is right now. _

 

But Hermione’s musings were abruptly interrupted as a rustling noise focused their attention to their immediate left.

 

A dark spectre advanced upon them, making the already frigid wasteland even colder than before, and Hermione could feel any remaining joy seep out of her like air out of a deflating balloon.

 

“D-dementor!” she shouted stupidly, raising her wand before she realized that she couldn’t drive it off, couldn’t produce a Patronus...it was going to suck every bit of happiness from her body and take her soul and there was nothing she could do….

 

“Snap out of it!” Sev cried, shaking her. “We have to run!” 

 

“Wha-?” she looked at him, “Can’t you-?”

 

“No! I have the same problem you do!” he shouted, his eyes widening until he looked almost demented. “If you don’t want to have your soul sucked out of you then come with me!”

 

“It’s no use!” she cried, feeling her eyes fill with tears, “I’m just going to slow you down anyway.  I’m just...I deserve to die…I…”

 

“We don’t have time to stand here arguing!” he shouted back at her. “Take my hand.  Follow where I lead.  And if you still have a death wish after we get away from this damned creature, then I’ll respect that and let it get you, all right?!”

 

Hermione nodded numbly and grasped his hand tightly, allowing him to pull her away from the dark spectre that seemed to be growing closer at an alarmingly fast speed.  She focused on the warmth of his fingers entwined around hers, the heat of his palm as he pulled her through thorny brambles and behind trees and around rocks, swearing as he blazed his way through the underbrush in an attempt to lose the dementor on their trail.

 

Somehow, the extreme exertion jarred a memory in her head.  

 

A book on Advanced Potions.  

 

An old clip from the Daily Prophet.  

 

A sudden moment of clarity.

 

“Oh my god,” she said breathlessly as they ran, “It’s impossible.  I know it’s impossible...but...I  _ know who you are _ .”

 

He turned back momentarily as they ran and she could see the profile of his large, hooked nose in the half light of the floating blue lanterns and she  _ knew _ .

 

“ _ Please… _ .” he gasped, his eyes wild with fear, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was for the dementor or if it was the fact that she’d figured it out. “Please...don’t hate me.”

 

But there was no time to respond, because there was suddenly nothing under their feet as they crashed through a bush and off the side of a very high drop.  The sound of rushing water below was only a minor comfort, as the cold of it was enough to knock the breath from Hermione’s body as she struggled to keep her face above water.

 

But their fingers were still connected somehow, and this somehow gave her the strength to keep fighting the urge to sink down into the water and let it end her.

 

Gasping and coughing, they flopped onto a sandy bank and lay side by side in the near pitch black, the fairy light having been extinguished by the roaring freezing river.  He cast a Drying spell on them both silently, and though she knew it should feel wrong and strange to pull herself closer until they were face to face in the sand, somehow it didn’t feel that way at all when she actually did it.  

 

“We need...to stay warm…” she said, her cheeks burning in the darkness as she felt his breath coming out in warm puffs only inches away.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arm around her, but he said nothing in reply as their combined body heat made the oppressive cold of their surroundings somehow more manageable.

 

She listened to the steady rise and fall of his breath until she closed her eyes and knew no more.


	4. New Old Faces

 

Hermione woke to the sound of rushing water and the sensation of strong arms wrapped tightly around her.  She was warm and her heart beat contentedly as she listened to a second heartbeat thrumming next to her ear. Her body was still sluggish and still but her mind was racing.

 

_ He asked me not to hate him.  What did he mean by that? And why is he so young and, more to the point, how is he alive? _

 

Hermione could hear him breathing deeply in sleep and was loath to wake him up.  He deserved at least a little bit of peace as long as there was no immediate danger.  Hermione grasped inside the pocket of her robes until her hand closed around her wand and she sighed with relief. Her beaded handbag was still tied against her waist as well, though it was a bit soggy.  It was still dark, but her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could make out murky shapes.  She began to wonder idly if the dawn would ever come, or if the Room of Requirement had trapped them in eternal darkness.

 

He let out a sudden moan in his sleep and Hermione blushed involuntarily.  It wasn’t a sexual moan, but it had been unexpected enough that she was made painfully aware of the fact that she was lying about on a sandbar cuddled up next to one of the most controversial Hogwarts professors ever.  Well, at least she was reasonably certain that’s who he was.  But none of the things she’d puzzled out explained why he would be here.  The Room had not conjured up a ghost (she was duly reminded of this as he tightened his hold around her momentarily as he shifted slightly before relaxing in sleep again), and as far as she knew, it was unable to create simulacrums of people.  Which only left-

 

“Time travel!” she gasped, a frown settling over her face as she racked her brain for the logistics of such a thing. 

 

But how was that even possible?  The Time Turners had all been destroyed.  And as far as Hermione knew, there was no precedence for the Room of Requirement sending people to different time periods.

 

Her train of thought was interrupted by an uncomfortable sensation against her lower back.  Something firm and warm was pressing into her somewhat uncomfortably and when she realized what it was, her face went a deep scarlet and she let out a loud panicked squeak despite herself.

 

He released her abruptly and sprang backwards with a shout, pulling his wand as though he’d done it a thousand times before. From what Harry had said about Snape’s time at Hogwarts, Hermione was pretty sure it had been more like a hundred thousand times. She called up the little blue flames and had them float around them both, bringing more light to the surrounding area.  She could see his eyes were wide and his chest heaved as he recovered from the shock.

 

“I’m sorry!” Hermione said, bending forward, as she had rolled onto her hands and knees.  “It’s just...you…”

 

Her hands flew to her mouth when she realized what she’d nearly said.

 

“You were moaning,” she finally managed, her face nearly steaming with embarrassment as her eyes darted towards the area that had caused her outburst to begin with.

 

He opened his mouth to reply but stopped to look at her and followed her gaze, his own face growing hot as he threw his robes over the front of himself to hide his embarrassment.

 

“I am...truly sorry,” he said quietly, refusing to meet her gaze.

 

“It’s really not your fault,” Hermione replied, talking rapidly in a flustered voice, “I mean, you can’t exactly control... _ that _ …well,  _ anyway _ ...I really appreciate you keeping me warm, I mean, er...staying close to me...no! I mean...good lord, nothing seems to be coming out right!”

 

Hermione went silent, realizing that every successive thing she was saying sounded more and more like a sexual innuendo and decided that the best thing she could do was simply not say anything at all.

 

“It’s ok,” he said flatly, still staring at the ground, “I wasn’t having a good dream, anyway.”

 

Hermione stared.  She’d expected him to say something cruel and biting, maybe sarcastic if she was lucky.  But, truth be told, as she looked at the dark rings under his eyes and the lines that were already forming between his eyebrows, she realized that it was more than just aftermath of having been attacked by a Dementor and then half-drowned in a freezing cold river.

 

“How old are you, anyway?” she asked gently, trying to seem unthreatening.

 

“Why does it matter?” he replied in that same flat, emotionless voice, “You...you  _ know _ who... _ what _ I am. Well, go on, then.  Hex me.  Shout at me.  I won’t even fight back. I deserve it, you know.  Especially if anything I did led to someone you care about being hurt.”

 

He raised his arms out to either side and dropped his wand on the sand resignedly.

 

Hermione just stared at him as though he’d gone mad.

 

“I am not going to hex you, especially not if you’re standing here unarmed,” she replied, crossing her arms, “And I don’t hate you.  Whatever gave you that idea?”

 

“You said you knew me…” he said, bringing his arms around himself as though he’d caught a sudden chill.

 

“I know a lot more about you than you might think, Severus Snape,” Hermione said, feeling a little guilty when he winced at her usage of his name. “Now, please.  Tell me how old you are. I promise I will explain why once I know.”

 

“Twenty-one,” he breathed back, almost whispering.

 

Hermione’s eyes widened, but she tried to focus on getting the rest of the information she needed before she started doing the mental math she would need to figure out the puzzle.

 

“And what time of the year is it?”

 

“This is stupid,” he muttered, wincing when she gave him a stern look. “ _ Fine _ .  It’s December.  Two weeks until Christmas, give or take a couple days.”

 

Hermione’s face scrunched up as she did some mental calculations.

 

“Let me see your Mark,” she said, finally, pulling herself up from her knees and taking a step forward.

 

He backed up as she advanced, shaking his head.

 

“No! You can’t!  I can’t...I don’t want…” he said, his wide eyes red-rimmed but tearless.

 

“Do you want to know  _ how _ I know you?” Hermione asked fiercely, pulling a strand of messy hair behind one ear as it flew into her face.  Her eyes softened as she saw him start, his face full of terror and said more gently, “I promise.  I will not hurt you. So  _ please _ . Let me see it.”

 

He looked away, black strings of hair falling over his eyes and yanked the fabric of his sleeve up to his elbow. She could see the profile of his face in the blue flickering fairy lights, and she felt stupid for not having recognized him before.  His face, especially his nose, were unmistakably unique.  She felt a twinge of  _ something _ twist in her stomach as she looked longer than she knew was proper before turning her gaze to his bare arm. 

 

She approached him, and she marveled at the indistinct dark smudge on his pale forearm where the Dark Mark had been.  He winced when she suddenly touched the discolored area softly.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling back, “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No,” he mumbled, pulling the fabric down and holding his sleeve with his other hand. “I just...it’s shameful.”

 

“You couldn’t save her, could you?” Hermione said sadly and he looked at her as though she’d just slapped him.

 

“ _ How _ do you know about  _ that _ ?” his voice was almost a whimper when he finally spoke.

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she replied, approaching him again as he hung back, hunching over miserably.

 

“Then how do you know me? How do you know about Lily? How do you know of my…. _ failure _ ?” his voice was cracking as he did his best to hold back tears, his eyes red and wide as though looking at a ghost.

 

“It’s simple,” Hermione replied, touching his arm gently, and bending to catch his eyes with her own. “I am from your future.  And I can tell you right now that there is nothing for you to be ashamed of.  You did as you promised.  You protected her son. Sure, you were pretty unpleasant sometimes, but you weren’t the only one.”

 

“No...that’s...that’s impossible…” he gasped.

 

“The truth is, I don’t hate you at all,” Hermione said, her eyes sparkling as they filled with tears of her own.  “Quite the opposite, really.  I’m just sorry that I never knew until after….”

 

“After what?” he asked, the tone of his voice hopeful.

 

“After you died.” Hermione said uncomfortably.

 

“...I  _ knew _ it…” he sounded defeated.

 

“But you’re  _ here _ ! Now!” Hermione said fiercely, brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes. “And...and...I just...I have...I have to…”

 

Before he could respond, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

 

“ _ Thank you _ , professor,” she said, “No matter what you think of yourself now, what mistakes you’ve made, I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for me. And if Harry were here, he’d say the same.”

 

He said nothing, but she could feel him shaking silently as he buried his face in her shoulder and she knew that he’d finally been unable to hold back the despair that he had been hiding behind his eyes.  Her eyes went wide and she felt the warmth spread across her cheeks as his long arms reached around her, holding her tight as well.

 

Something shifted in Hermione’s chest as she inhaled his scent as he silently poured out his utter despair in her arms.  She couldn’t bear to see him like this, knowing all that he’d sacrificed, all that he’d endured, only to die so close to freedom.

 

_ Don’t fall for him, Hermione.  Don’t do it.  Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. _

 

She smiled sadly at these thoughts, for though she knew that they were right, she also knew that she’d passed that point a long, long time ago.  And as he squeezed her more tightly, as though fearing she might disappear, her heart beat sickeningly fast in her chest and she knew she was lost.


	5. Research

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

It was a simple enough question, but Hermione was concentrating on the wards and instinctively gave him a look that could curdle blood and nearly smirked despite herself when he shrunk away from her.  The Professor Snape she knew would never have done such a thing.  The wand motions felt nearly automatic after having done it so many times while she’d been on the run with Harry and Ron and that damned locket horcrux, and she kept her thoughts to herself until she finally finished.  

 

“I’m sorry...um, Severus, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. This isn’t really new for me, though. Ever since the war finally ended, I haven’t been able to relax,” Hermione said apologetically.  It still felt weird to call him by his first name, but they were so close in age now, it also seemed weird  _ not _ to do it as well.

 

“It’s only been a few months for me, too,” he replied, leaning up against a frost-covered tree, “I have trouble sleeping a lot.  I keep thinking my Mark is going to start burning any moment...I’m terrified that I’m going to hear his voice from behind me...I keep dreaming of her face, her eyes wide and sightless because of me.”

 

Her wards set, Hermione pulled her beaded handbag open and dug down to her shoulder, feeling around inside.  She noticed him looking at her with interest, but said nothing.  She’d put her foot in her mouth enough times in the past half hour.  Finally, she tugged mightily and dislodged the tent from under what felt like a stack of books, pulling it free from the bag.  Pointing her wand at it, she set it up in a manner that had become almost second nature for her.

 

“ _ Impressive _ ,” Severus said, his eyes widening as he stepped inside the structure and took in it’s rather un-tent-like interior.

 

“No one should be able to sense us from the outside,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, “I double checked the wards, and they’re holding strong.  I’m not sure about how they’ll affect dementors, but I never had any problems with them before.”

 

“This is amazing,” Severus said, picking up a tea kettle, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

 

“It’s not so amazing when you’ve had to live in it for almost half a year,” Hermione replied, feeling a nauseous sort of deja vu from revisiting this particular interior, “But I will say it’s better than lying around on a sandbar in the snow.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Now, then, are you hungry? I have some food in my bag.” She rummaged in her bag, feeling around for the remaining half of sandwich that she’d saved from earlier.

 

“That won’t be necessary.  I don’t find myself feeling very hungry lately,” came the reply.

 

“Well, do let me know,” Hermione replied, “It will be important for us to keep our strength up in any case.”

 

He nodded slightly and sat down on the nearby bottom bunk bed, sinking his fingers into the soft quilt with a look of wonder.

 

“Well, neither of us are in the mood to eat, might I suggest the next best thing?” Hermione quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“And what might that be?” Severus said, an eyebrow rising on one side somewhat skeptically.

 

“ _ Books _ , of course!” she replied, pulling tome after thick tome from her bag and placing them on the table.

 

“Do you have an _entire_ _library_ in there?” he asked, his expression full of interest.  

 

“Well, to be honest,” Hermione replied, blushing a little, “There are a number of books in here that belonged to...well...you.”

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“After you... _ died _ ...all of the wards on your chambers fell. In the aftermath, when I was helping rebuild the castle-”

 

“ _ Hogwarts _ was damaged?” He sounded horrified.

 

“Yes, unfortunately,” Hermione continued, “Anyway, so when I was helping with the rebuilding process, I got to work on the dungeon area, including your offices and personal chambers. I had to take a lot of your things to protect them from being destroyed.  A lot of people still didn’t believe that you had been working for Dumbledore the entire time, especially after you killed him.”

 

“ _ WHAT _ ?!” Severus nearly fell off the bed.

 

“Oh, it’s not what you think! He  _ made _ you do it!” Hermione added quickly.

 

“Bloody  _ figures _ ,” he muttered darkly.

 

“ _ These _ are yours,” she said, pulling a number of leather bound books out and placing them gently on the table. “They’re very useful.  I have more in my room back at Hogwarts...well...wherever or  _ when _ ever it is.”

 

He stood quietly and strode over to the table, running his fingers across the covers with a look of awe rising on his face.

 

“You say that all of these were... _ are _ …. _ mine _ ?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I had an entire library?”

 

“Yes.  And as far as I know, you also have a house in….Cokeworth, I think? It’s full of even more stuff.  They still haven’t been able to get past the wards there for some reason, and I think that the Ministry is  _ this _ close to giving up and designating it as a historical monument.”

 

“Whatever  _ for _ ?” Severus sounded aghast.

 

“Why...you’re a war hero!” Hermione exclaimed. “Posthumously of course, but you’re still considered an integral part of the forces that finally brought Voldemort down once and for all.”

 

“ _ I am no such thing _ !” he shouted, his voice cracking a little as he paused to breathe, “I’m the reason that everything happened the way it did! I don’t deserve to be a hero. She’s DEAD because of ME!   I’m just...I’m  _ nothing _ .  No.  I’m  _ less _ than nothing.  And that house…. _ ugh _ ...it deserves to be set fire to and bulldozed, not  _ preserved _ !”

 

They stared at one another from opposite sides of the table for a long moment.

 

“Do you really want to know?” Hermione finally said quietly. “How things turn out?”

 

“Does it matter?” he replied brokenly, staring pointedly at the books, “I’m a horrible person, and I die in the end anyway. It’s more than I deserve, honestly.”

 

Hermione did not know what to say to this. 

 

“Well, I know that we both ideally want to find a way out of this godforsaken forest,” she said carefully, “but maybe... _ maybe _ you were brought here for a reason.”

 

“And what reason is that?” he asked, looking up at her with a haunted expression.

 

Hermione pulled a spiral notebook from her bag and held it up for him to see the golden letters on the front.

 

“What if,” she said, “You could change what hasn’t happened yet?  What if I gave you all of answers?  Could I trust you to save them  _ all _ , even the ones you don’t care for much?”

His dark eyes snapped wide and he seemed to consider her words for a moment before he nodded.

 

“I don’t have to care about the lives I save,” he said, finally, “Only that they are saved when they might otherwise perish.”

 

“Not even someone like, say, Sirius Black or Remus Lupin?” Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised in askance.

 

His expression darkened.  “Black  _ betrayed _ them. He’s rotting in Azkaban, which is more than he deserves.”

 

“Actually, you’re wrong.  It was Peter Pettegrew all along.  He’s off pretending to be a rat somewhere while Black takes the fall.”

 

Severus went deathly pale and gripped the table until his knuckles were white.

 

_ “What?” _

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Well...what about Lupin? Do you know about his... _ monthly _ problem?”

 

Hermione nodded.

 

“I also know that you almost died because Sirius convinced you to investigate the Shrieking Shack during a full moon.  But do you think he deserves to die, leaving behind an infant son, for something he couldn’t control?”

 

“....No….” he lowered his head, hiding behind his hair.

 

“Severus,  _ look at me _ ,” Hermione said, reaching out to touch his chin, tipping it up so she could see his eyes again.

 

“ _ What _ ?” His expression was surly, and he backed away, sitting back on the quilt again.

 

“You have the chance to change everything if this works! But before I go any further, I need to know that you’re willing to see it through.”  Hermione tried to sound authoritative, but after having been in the company of this younger, far less-sure-of-himself Severus, she had begun to wonder how much this one still had to learn.  A part of her was grateful that he appeared to be far less angry and quick to dispense cruelty as his older counterpart, but his expression looked much less like the stubborn, teeth-gritted resolve of his older self and far more like a deer in headlights.

 

“How old were you...when….when he was finally defeated?” Severus asked quietly, tracing his finger nervously around the flowery pattern of the quilt.

 

“I was... _ eighteen, I guess _ ?  I didn’t really have much of a chance to celebrate my birthday, being on the run from Voldemort and all.” Hermione mused wearily, hoping she was right.  

 

For all her willingness to explain to Severus what he’d missed, she didn’t like talking about her personal experiences during that last, horrible year and how it had pushed her friendships to their limits or led to the deaths of far too many.  Sometimes she still felt as though everything that had happened after Voldemort’s death was just part of some surreal dream. There was no time to think during the actual battle.  They responded on instinct alone.  By the time the dust had settled and she’d cried until no more tears would come, she was numb for weeks. Of course, she didn’t have nearly as much of a right to her nightmares as her peers.  Her parents didn’t remember her, but they were still alive, at least.  And though they didn’t remember their daughter, they were living relatively happily in Australia.

 

“And...is he…. _ really _ gone? For  _ good _ ?”  His tone was still somewhat doubtful.

 

“I helped destroy over half of the objects that kept him from dying the first time.  I was there at the last battle, by Harry’s side.  I watched the life drain out of Voldemort’s eyes.  Believe me, it’s over.” Hermione said, her eyes going far away as she relived the scene in her mind.  “In the end, he was nothing more than a mortal man, which I suppose was the worst possible thing he could become as far as he was concerned. He fell prey to hubris and ultimately paid the price for it tenfold.”

 

She noticed that he winced noticeably when she said Tom Riddle’s chosen name and felt a stab of guilt.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said gently, leaning forward over the table. “You hate it when someone refers to him by the V-word, don’t you?”

 

He let out a barking laugh.

 

“Do you  _ think _ ?” he said thickly. “Just hearing it makes me feel nauseous.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, lowering her head.  “I keep forgetting that you’re not the you that I remember.”

 

He said nothing to this, slipping out of his boots and twisting until he was lying back against the pillow under the shadow of the upper bunk, his long legs pressing against the foot of the bed.

 

She took the hint and grabbed a book, leafing through it somewhat aimlessly as her eyes kept darting back over to his shadowed form. 

 

“What was he... _ I _ ...like?” he asked suddenly, startling her.

 

“Well, as a professor, you were very strict,” Hermione said slowly, unsure of how blunt she should be, “A lot of people disliked you, though.”

 

He snorted. “That is not exactly a new phenomenon.”

 

“Well,” Hermione continued, “You were always showing up when we least expected it, but you protected us in your own way.”

 

“And what way was that?”

 

“Well, it usually involved you shouting at us and calling us idiots,” she admitted, her cheeks going a little pink.

 

“And  _ were _ you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Idiots.” he replied, turning to the side so that she could see his face again.

 

“Well…” she trailed off, her embarrassed expression telling him all he needed to know.

 

He scoffed, half coughing, half chuckling in reply.

 

“So anyway,” Hermione said finally, desperate to change the subject, “Would you like to look at the book on Dark creatures and their weaknesses or the book on patronuses?”

 

“Which one was mine?”

 

“Both, actually,” Hermione said, holding them up.

 

“Might as well go for the Dark creatures one,” Severus replied, trying to look nonchalant, “After all, he obviously shares my fashion statement.”

 

Hermione arched an eyebrow at this and turned the cover to look at the wraith-like creature clad in a black shroud, snorting loudly despite her attempt to stop herself, especially when she saw that his lips had widened into a small, somewhat sad smile of his own.

 

Making her way around the table, she sat on the corner of the bed near his feet and handed the book over to him.  He took it from her gently and opened it, saying nothing about her proximity to him.

 

Encouraged, she opened her own book and began to read, sneaking glances from time to time as they both studied in silence.

 

He shifted after a while and something warm pressed against her lower back, though this time it was not uncomfortable in the least. She turned and noticed that he’d turned on his side, still buried in the book, but his legs made a somewhat informal backrest for her.  When she pressed her back against them to relieve the ache that had been building there, he did not pull away.

 

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

 

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, not looking up from his book.

 

Hermione tried to hide the blush that had risen on her cheeks yet again and pulled the book up closer to her face, but she could feel his eyes on her and when she glanced over yet again, she saw him looking at her curiously. The corners of his mouth were turned up ever so slightly and it made her want to do the same.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” she said, feeling her voice crack a little with self consciousness.

 

“To be honest,” he replied, “Dementors and half-drowning aside...this has been quite a lot more pleasant than nearly any other experience in my entire life.”

 

“Surely that’s not-” Hermione started, her words cut off by the knowing look she was receiving from this younger version of her potions professor.  She could almost see a shadow overlay of his more stern and grown-up self as his eyes dared her to prove him wrong. She practically had to shake her head to clear the thoughts that sprang to mind, as well as the regrets she still held at having never found closure with him once she finally learned the truth.

 

“So, anyway, what I meant to say was this,” he continued, one hand nervously stroking the page he’d stopped at, “Thank  _ you _ , Hermione.”


	6. Making Progress

 

Hermione did not mean to fall asleep yet again, but the lack of food and the comfortable silence between the two of them seemed to be the perfect catalyst for sleep, not to mention the soft quilt.  She awoke with her aching face pressed against the corner of the book she’d been reading and cursed inwardly.

 

_ Great, that’s going to leave a mark. _

 

Her legs were hanging halfway off the bed and she blushed mightily when she realized that she’d basically been snuggling with the dark wizard’s feet.  Her arm had been thrown around his legs at some point during the time she’d been unconscious, and she was holding onto them like a child with a stuffed toy.

 

Pulling herself up to a sitting position, she stretched out her arms and looked at Severus, who’d had the good sense to place his book to the side before falling asleep as well. At first glance, he looked so peaceful lying there on the quilt, breathing deeply.  After having watched him breathe his last, she found the rise and fall of his chest to be oddly hypnotic and simply watched him breathing for a long time.  Hermione felt a little sad when she saw the dark point of his wand sticking out of the side of his pillow.  It was a reminder of just how guarded even the young, surly Slytherin had already become.  Even in sleep, Severus Snape never really relaxed.  Hermione wondered if this particular habit was one he had learned long before Hogwarts. 

 

Of course, it was a moot point now.

 

She shifted her legs and tried to slip off of the mattress without disturbing him, but she’d no sooner touched the floor with her stocking feet when a hand had reached out to grasp her arm, startling her.

 

“ _ Please _ !” his voice was intense as his eyes snapped wide with fear, “Don’t leave me!”

 

Hermione winced inwardly at the look of naked terror on his face. From what she knew of his past, she knew that there were few people who he’d been able to call friends, and even then, there was a lack of consensus on what level of friendship he’d ever experienced. And while Hermione knew that he loved Harry’s mother, she also knew that this version of him had already lost her twice- once in school when he’d uttered the terrible word that was coincidentally written in scar tissue on her arm and once when Voldemort had finally found the house she and her family had been hiding within and taken her life.

 

“I wasn’t leaving,” she reassured him, “I just didn’t want to disturb you, and I’m feeling a little peckish.”

 

This was a lie.  She didn’t feel hungry at all, but it felt better to say that than voice her embarrassment at having fallen asleep in bed and snuggling with her future Potions professor’s feet.

 

“Do you mind…” his eyes shifted back and forth as though he wasn’t used to looking people in the eye. “Can you….oh...never mind.”

 

“Please, tell me,” she replied, reaching forward and placing a hand on his knee.

 

He looked at the floor of the tent with a mortified expression.

 

“I...I don’t feel safe unless you’re next to me.” he admitted, his face growing a little red. “Do you...that is...if you don’t mind….can you...stay here until I fall back asleep?”

 

Hermione felt a stab of pity for him.  She knew what it was like to have nightmares descend upon her every night, waking up covered in sweat and terribly alone with the receding shadows of her demons.

 

“Sure, I’ll be happy to do that for you, Severus,” she said, patting his knee reassuringly.

 

His face dissolved into a mask of naked gratitude and for a moment she was certain he was about to cry before his eyes tightened and he took a deep breath, reigning in his emotions once more.

 

Idly, she sat with her legs hanging off the bed, tapping her toe and stroking his knee softly as he lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes.  Not long after, his breathing evened out once more and she was able to get up without disturbing him.

 

Delving back into her books, she found a couple of important things about summoning patronuses that she’d never needed to think about before, seeing as she’d never had problems casting it until relatively recently.

 

According to the text, the happy memories that are strong enough to produce a patronus can change as one ages and mature.  Also, major traumas can affect the ability for the caster to connect the happy memory to the feelings that are supposed to be conjured up for the spell. 

 

Hermione could feel a slight twinge on her arm where the scar she’d received from Bellatrix burned against her skin as she thought about the trauma she’d endured.  Deciding that her best bet would be to sit and think of suitable replacements, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and started jotting down potential memories.

 

By the time Severus began to stir on the bed, Hermione had narrowed it down to three memories.  Her first was when she’d figured out the potion riddle in her first year. It was a mark of incredible pride for her that she’d been able to solve it, though she wasn’t quite sure if it counted as “happy” enough.  The second one was when she’d made such a splash at the Yule Ball, though, once again, there’d been a lot of angst afterwards and so she was concerned that the happy memory might be too tainted by sadness to be worthwhile.  The last was her kiss with Ron in the Chamber of Secrets.  This one was most volatile of all, as the kiss itself had her seeing stars and rainbows, though in retrospect she wasn’t sure if that was because Ron was a good kisser or if it had been simply due to the pressure that they’d both been under finally reaching a head. 

 

But still, she had to try.

 

She slipped out of the tent and looked around, but the darkness limited her range of vision. The tent glowed cheerily behind her and she felt a pang of longing to give up and go back inside.

 

_ Preferably to snuggle with those rather nice feet.  _

 

Her cheeks burned at the sudden intrusive thought. 

 

She was being silly. Even if he felt the same way, she knew that she couldn't go with him, even if that was possible. And he couldn't go with her either, not with his important role in the dark days to come. And it was completely out of the question for them both to stay in this wasteland within the Room of Requirement. 

 

Time was a tricky, fickle thing. She knew that better than most after her adventures with the time turner. She didn't want to meddle more than necessary, though to be honest, she had no idea what would happen if she was able to give him the power to save all of these lives. Would he be able to do it?  Would he even want to do it once he understood what would be required of him?

 

Hermione stretched her arms over her head and tried not to think about it. She needed to focus on summoning a Patronus, or their next dementor encounter might be their last. 

 

_ Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. You can do this, Hermione!   _

 

She just wished that she was as sure of herself as she sounded in her head. 

 

It was time. 

 

She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She pictured the memory of the table with the potions laid out upon it, rhyming cards attached to each in familiar spidery handwriting...

 

_ -and then he died before anyone ever knew what he'd done! The snake, the blood!  The light fading in those serious, terrified eyes as he shuddered and went still and- _

 

Her eyes opened again and she growled with frustration. 

 

_ Guess it will have to be the Yule Ball memory, then.  _

 

Hermione took deep, cleansing breaths and closed her eyes again, imagining her dress, her perfect hair, the entrance she'd made as everyone marveled at her. Ron's fish-like expression as she walked hand in hand with Viktor, who was handsome and well dressed. 

 

But then, though she tried not to do it, her thoughts turned to the row she'd had with her friends.  Ron's thoughtless words. Viktor and his insistence that he was always right, that there was no room to argue or debate points on the strengths and weaknesses of various breeds of dragon.  

 

And then....

 

_ She'd been sitting at the foot of the stairs with her head in her hands, trying to stop the tears for long enough to see clearly and make it back to her dorm when she felt the whisper of robes against her shoe and when she'd looked up with red rimmed eyes, he'd been standing there looking irritable as always.  _

 

_ "Don't block the stairs, Miss Granger, someone could trip and fall on you!" Snape had growled, "Five points from Gryffindor for causing a safety hazard!" _

 

_ Hermione had nodded her head silently, but the tears had continued and she was pink with mortification. He pulled something from his robes and at first she flinched as she thought it might be his wand, but it turned out to be a white cloth handkerchief, and he thrust it in her lap with a tired expression.  _

 

_ "Do not worry about returning it," he continued briskly, "And wipe that simpering look from your face!  I simply couldn't stand by and watch you drown yourself with your own tears! I shall be very cross if you incapacitate yourself enough to be excused from the twenty inch paper that’s due Monday." _

 

_ "Th-thank you, Sir," she said, still a bit blubbery.  _

 

_ "Well...er...then as long as we have an understanding!" He had added, looking down the hallway and away from her as though avoiding looking at her.  _

 

_ Hermione had stood and brushed off her dress, turning to climb the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.  _

 

_ "Oh, and Miss Granger?" Snape's voice was very quiet, nearly conspiratorial as she turned and found that he was silently looming over her, though she'd never heard him move.  _

 

_ "Y-yes?" _

 

_ "If I were you, I would consider looking at a very...substantial...series of books on dragonlore by A.R. Blutenghast. They might...illuminate...some interesting points on the off chance that you find yourself in need of some extra ammunition in your next debate." _

 

_ “Thank you, Sir,” she said quietly. _

 

_ “Any dunderhead knows that just because a wizard is good with a broom doesn’t mean that he is good with his brain.” came the short reply and he was gone, whipping around the corridor with a whisper of thick black robes.  _

 

She sighed as she remembered the whole sordid tale. He’d never behaved untoward or creepy towards her, nor had he ever mentioned that night again, but she’d always thought that it was rather ironic that it hadn’t been her friends who’d given her the advice that had helped give her the strength to get through that horrible year.

 

And once again, she’d run into a wall.  

 

She growled irritably and twisted a snarl of brown hair around her finger. Her Patronus would never appear at this rate!

 

_ Two down, one to try. That’s fine. I’m fine. That’s why I saved the most intense memory for last. _

 

This time, she turned in a circle and took several deep breaths before she continued.  Closing her eyes tightly and gripping her wand with a grim look of determination, Hermione focused on the final memory. 

 

T _ hey were standing together in the Chamber.  She’d wanted to kiss Ron before, but had been so afraid of how he’d react, and after he’d abandoned them, the desire had disappeared altogether.  It seemed like such a bad time to do it, but she didn’t know if she’d get another chance.  And when he’d talked of freeing the House Elves so that they would be safe from the fighting...it had been too much.  Something inside of her broke and she ran to him, kissing him and not caring that Harry was right there, looking at them both as though they’d both gone mental.... _

 

Hermione had the vague sensation of pursing her lips in a ghost of that kiss and let the tingling sensation of her memory’s gentle joy fill her.

 

“Expecto Patronum!” she shouted, and her eyes flew open to see a tiny spurt of mist shoot from the tip of her wand, fizzling out once it got about a foot away from her.

 

“Your first kiss memory didn’t work? They usually do the trick.” a familiar voice said from behind her. “Either you’re hard to please, or that bloke deserves to find out what happens when one kisses a hippogriff.  Without permission.”

 

Hermione snorted before she could stop herself and turned to see Severus leaning against the outside of the tent. He was obviously trying very hard to look nonchalant.

 

“You...you  _ saw _ that?” she asked, flushing with embarrassment.  

 

“I saw enough.”

 

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.  I thought I’d try to figure out if I just needed a different memory, but it seems to be hopeless. Practicing doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect, either.” Hermione stared at her wand disparagingly.

 

“It’s a bit cold out here,” he replied, his eyes going soft and sympathetic in a manner that she’d never seen from his older self before, “Why don’t you come back inside and we can brainstorm memories together? I think your idea is a good one, we just have to come up with a longer list.”

 

Hermione almost wanted to snicker at the irony of how  _ hopeful _ he sounded.  Wasn’t  _ she _ supposed to be the idealistic youngster?  But, she reminded herself for the millionth time, he wasn’t the same person she’d known.  And as she followed him back inside, she began to wonder if the reason her practicing hadn’t worked was because she’d been using the wrong memories.  In all of them, the same, distracting image had popped up in her mind as she’d been trying to focus.

 

“Maybe…” she mumbled, trailing off as she ducked through the tent flap, “....maybe a newer happy memory would work if the others...er.... _ don’t.. _ .”

 

He turned back and gave her a curious look but said nothing.

 

But as she sat down across from him at the worktable with parchment in hand, her heart skipped a beat as she saw him scribble down her name before he pulled the parchment up so that she couldn’t see the rest.

 

With heady, fragmented thoughts buzzing around in her head, Hermione dropped her eyes to her own parchment and began to write her own list, hoping that, when the time came to practice, he’d tell her what he’d written.


	7. In the Face of Failure

 

“It’s no use!” Hermione’s voice wavered, her eyes going blurry with tears.  She fell onto her knees and nearly dropped her wand as feelings of hopelessness filled her chest.

 

Both she and Severus had been trying all of their happy memories for the past twenty minutes, and yet, no Patronus had appeared.  One of his tries had produced a nebulous ball of light, but it was a far cry from the corporeal Patronus that Hermione knew he was capable of making.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Severus said, running over to her and offering his hand, “Maybe we just need to rest. Cat naps really aren’t helping either of us.”

 

“How long?” Hermione said tearfully.

 

“What?” Severus replied, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

 

“How long have you been unable to summon a corporeal Patronus?”

 

He looked away.

 

“It’s...been a couple months since...it happened...since I’ve needed to…but that doesn’t mean anything...” he mumbled.

 

“I don’t understand it,” Hermione continued tearfully, “I was able to summon a Patronus in the middle of a battle against a hundred dementors and yet...I wasn’t able to banish  _ one _ by itself the other day in the forest.”

 

“How long has it been since the battle?” Severus asked quietly.

 

“A...couple of months…” she replied, staring at the ground.

 

“And have  _ you _ sent a Patronus lately?”

 

Hermione shook her head back and forth as she wiped at her eyes.

 

“Hermione.”  The sound of her name in his tone of voice was gentle and she couldn’t help but look up at him with a decidedly unattractive snuffling noise.

 

“W...what?”

 

“Come on. I’ll fix you something.” 

 

Hermione blinked.  Even though he was skittish and obviously not very familiar with kindness, he was still standing there with his hand extended to help her up and a decidedly sympathetic look in his dark, dark eyes.

 

“I’m...I’m not very hungry…” Hermione stammered.

 

“I know.  I don’t eat a lot when I’m upset, either,” Severus replied with a shrug, “but it doesn’t make it somehow less bad for you.  It’s easy to justify it to myself, but...for some reason, I...can’t bear to see you hurting yourself.  So, please.  Just humor me, won’t you?”

 

Hermione nodded and took his hand.  Even though he was so thin and lanky, he was surprisingly strong.  He pulled her up with little effort and she allowed him to lead her back into the tent again.

 

“Oh! S...sorry…” he stuttered when he realized that he was still holding her hand, but she shook her head and squeezed his fingers gently.

 

“Actually...I...like it...that is, if you don’t mind.  Your hand is, um, warm, and...” Hermione said bashfully, her cheeks growing hot.

 

His eyes narrowed for a moment as though debating the truth of her words, but when he saw the look on her face, his expression softened and she could see a flush rising on his cheeks as well.

 

They reached the small kitchenette and Severus stared expectantly at the beaded handbag, which was still sitting on the table.  Hermione opened it up and summoned the food items she’d stored within.

 

“There isn’t a lot of food, and it’s all been placed under Stasis charms, so the flavor isn't the best,” Hermione started, staring at the items on the table as though they were utterly unappetizing, “but I’m just...I’ve never had much interest in cooking even when I’m  _ not _ feeling like the heel of a shoe. So, as you can probably guess, right now, I feel like buttered toast is beyond me.”

 

“Wow, that bad, eh?” Severus said sympathetically as he picked up some carrots and parsley, “Do you...want to talk about it? I’m not very good at giving advice, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

 

“Are you sure?” Hermione folded her arms on the table and rested the side of her cheek on them with a deep sigh.

 

“If that sigh is indicative of anything, it’s probably worth a try at the very least,” he replied, turning towards the little cupboards near the wood stove to grab a pot and a sauce pan. “Oh, right, where are the knives? I will need to dice up these vegetables finely if I want the soup to turn out well.”

 

“Over in the top drawer. And the ladles and wooden spoons are in the one underneath it,” Hermione said, watching him get acquainted with the kitchen. “I guess...I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say.  I’ve been feeling pretty numb lately, I guess, but isn’t that sort of normal for having been in a war?  I mean, it would be kind of disrespectful if I were dancing and smiling down the halls when a lot of people are still planning funerals.”

 

Severus looked at her from over the top of the stack of bowls and tools he was lifting up onto the table but said nothing.

 

“And...anyway...I guess, I just feel like my problems are simply less important than everyone else’s,” Hermione continued awkwardly, drawing her arms around herself as though staving off the cold, “There are so many names that I need to remember.  I can’t forget them.  I refuse to do it.  If I forget them, then maybe it means…”

 

“...That maybe you’re betraying them. That if you stop feeling awful, that it must mean you didn’t learn from your mistakes.” Severus said softly.

 

Hermione looked up at him with an anxious expression, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip slightly. 

 

“How did you..?” she started and he smiled sadly, his eyes growing distant as he looked past her as though pulling memories up in front of them.

 

“You know about Lily, so you must know how our friendship ended,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper, “I was...a bad friend.  And then I betrayed her even before I knew that I had done it.  In the end, I was left feeling like I’d been made a fool by the universe’s cruel joke. It didn’t matter what I did to atone.  She was lost.  I made the mistake of trying to forget her before, and it only brought me pain.  And so now, I shall never waver in holding onto that memory until I can do what must be done to protect her child.”

 

“She’s your Patronus memory, isn’t she?” Hermione replied, feeling a strange stirring of envy in her belly.  She’d never thought much about Harry’s mother other than the vague sadness one feels upon learning that Harry had been orphaned at such a young age.  The idea that a dead woman could inspire such devotion made her heart ache for Severus.

 

“She...was...but now…” He looked away and began dropping vegetables into the colander methodically, as though he were avoiding saying more by pretending to be busy.

 

“Mine was my first memory of doing magic, of knowing what it was,” Hermione replied, looking wistful. “Now, though, it’s simply not enough.  I think it has to do with seeing the destruction and pain that magic can cause firsthand.”  

 

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. 

 

“You can't feel bad forever, though, Hermione. It will eat you up inside. I've seen what sorrow and bitterness can do to someone over the years. Trust me, it isn't pretty.”

 

Hermione let out a bark of rueful laughter and shook her head slowly. 

 

“You do know that's rather ironic, coming from  _ you _ of all people,” she replied, her voice rougher than she’d intended it to be. 

 

“And you know this because?” His eyes had darkened and Hermione was not sure if he was hurt by her thoughtless words or filling with anger. 

 

“You became a bitter man, Severus,” Hermione replied, her voice growing soft. “There were times when I could see the pain you were carrying, but most of it was hidden under layers of snark and nastiness.”

 

“Hah.  I guess that does sound like me,” he replied, his expression growing morose. 

 

“You don't have to become that man, Severus,” Hermione said, her eyes full of sympathy.

 

“Perhaps you should focus on fixing your own problems before you presume to give  _ me _ advice,” Severus said bitterly, abruptly turning away from her to wash the vegetables. 

 

Hermione was stung by his remark and she frowned but she bit back the retort before she could blurt it out. His shoulders were slumped in a defeated manner and his head was drooped forward over the sink and she could tell by the way that he clung to the corner of the counter that her words had hurt him terribly. 

 

After a long silence, the only sounds being the spray of water and the clank and hiss of wood being loaded into the oven and ignited, Hermione finally gathered the courage to speak. 

 

“Severus,” she said softly, “Please. Look at me.”

 

He turned to look at her, colander held frozen in one hand as he held it dripping over the sink.

 

“I cannot begin to imagine what you’ve gone through,” she continued, “but I do know that there must be a reason that I have been given this opportunity.”

 

“And what sort of opportunity is that?” he replied waspishly, giving the colander a final shake and bringing it over to the table where he began to pull various vegetables and dice them into tiny pieces on the cutting board he’d prepared earlier.

 

Hermione admired how precise his movements were with the knife.  There was a graceful, flowing motion in his fingers and hands as he works and it was mesmerizing.  The constant sound of knife slicing through and whacking hollowly against the wood was soothing in a way that Hermione couldn’t put into words, like the hint of a memory of a home she’d known long, long ago.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Hermione said, “What...if I were to go with you?”

 

Severus froze mid-slice, his face frozen between shock and hope.

 

“You cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” he said quietly.

 

“If we ever find the door again,” Hermione said, idly tracing her finger in a circle on the wooden surface of the table, “would you be willing to let me come with you?”

 

“Hermione, think! It might unravel the very fabric of time!” Severus said, his eyes sad as he seemed to fight to say what needed to be said.

 

“I...I don’t care!” Hermione said loudly as she suddenly stood and slammed the palms of her hands against the table, ignoring the stinging pain that radiated up her arms. “You know what, I really don’t!  Do you know how many people  _ died _ ?!  _ You bloody died _ without a moment of happiness to show for it!  I should know.  I was there! I was unable to do anything as I watched the life go out of your eyes, Severus.  You weren’t even forty years old and you died thinking you had failed us all!”

 

“But  _ did _ I?” Severus replied, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her pause. “Did I fail...in the end?”

 

“...No...” Hermione said, trailing off, “...but what if I helped you to find the objects that allowed Voldemort to return? What if you don’t have to die? What if we can make it so that no one has to die?”

 

“Everyone dies, Hermione,” Severus said morosely.

 

“Well, I guess I’m a terrible person for thinking that it’s daft to throw your life away!” Hermione exclaimed irritably. “I...I can’t keep talking like this.  I’m going to lay down.”

Hermione turned and stomped away to the bunk beds and lay down facing the wall of the tent, glaring fiercely.  That damnable man and his damnable martyr complex!  The minutes stretched out in the silence, save for the sound of Severus puttering around in the kitchen. Hermione felt herself slowly falling into a contented stupor at the sound of bowls rattling against one another and the sound of a spoon stirring around in a pot.  For some reason, such domestic sounds reminded her of the security she’d had as a child watching her parents fix meals.

 

She hadn’t been meaning to fall asleep but the next thing Hermione knew, she was roused slightly by the feeling of something warm being draped over her body as a pair of warm, slender fingers untied her shoes and slipped them off of her feet.

 

“Unghhh,” she groaned, tossing and turning in her half-awake state.

 

“Shhh, you sleep now. I shall keep you safe,” came the whispery voice from above her.

 

Hermione didn’t need to be told twice.  She snuggled down under the warm blanket and her breathing began to even out once again.  It was as she finally drifted off to sleep that she thought she felt gentle fingers lightly stroking her back as though trying to soothe her into a deeper sleep and she knew he was keeping watch over her.

 


	8. Sleepy Shenanigans

 

Hermione felt herself floating up from a deep, dreamless sleep.  A weight on her legs made her grumble and moan with irritation.

 

“C’mon, Crooks, stop squishing me…” she mumbled. 

 

The weight wouldn’t budge as she turned and she blinked her blurry eyes quickly to clear the sleep that still threatened to pull her back down into unconsciousness.

 

“Seriously, Crooks-” She went silent as she peered out from the comforter and realized that it was not her large, orange half-kneazle that was lying across her legs and apparently dead to the world as he breathed deeply in sleep. It was then that she realized that his fingers were nearly touching hers, which made her wonder if he’d been holding her hand as she slept.  The thought made her blush madly, even though his weight was starting to make her knees ache.

 

Wiggling back and forth and pulling her legs up gently so that she could escape the weight of his sleeping body without disturbing Severus, Hermione sat up slowly. Her body still ached, but her mind felt clearer than it had in weeks.  Even though they’d argued before she’d gone to bed, it felt strangely cathartic, now. Maybe it was the fact that no one seemed to be willing to argue with her after the war, not even Ron or Harry, because they were far too busy giving her space, letting her grieve.

 

‘I’m just so tired of being sad...of mourning the dead.  I want to  _ do _ something!’ Hermione thought fiercely. ‘Even if it is just getting a rise out of kid-Snape.’

 

Looking down at him, though, it was obvious that this version of Severus Snape was not a child.  He was tall and gangly, like a horse that hadn’t quite grown into his legs, and his hooked beak of a nose stuck out from his long, dark hair like a pale white, pointed slab, but there was something about him that was both unyielding and vulnerable at the same time and it fascinated her.  That hardness and anger had been sharpened to a fine point by the time he’d been her professor in school, but now, it was like a vial of liquid, bubbling and straining on the vessel it was contained within, but not quite able to escape in a measured way.  His anger was still so raw and full of pain, and she could tell that he was not used to controlling it very well. The resigned expression she’d glimpsed on his face when he’d watch her stomp off had been hard for her to turn her back on, but she’d been angry and she too was only beginning to develop the ability to hold her temper instead of letting it out immediately.

 

“I guess we aren’t all that different, are we, Severus?” she said softly, bending slightly forward and stroking his hair gently on a whim. His hair was fine and silky to the touch, though she could still see how it could appear greasy at first glance.

 

His breathing was deep and even, but she heard a sigh of pleasure escape his lips as she touched him. She smiled gently and kept stroking his hair, eventually running her fingers down his back, which was still clad in dark robes, though they weren’t the same teaching robes she remembered. Even though he was obviously wearing some layers, she could feel the bones of his spine through his clothing and she shuddered to imagine exactly what sort of life he must have led to have grown up this malnourished.

 

Of course, it was not long before her stomach growled fiercely and she blushed with embarrassment, fully expecting Severus to sit up and cock his eyebrow at her in annoyance.  But he slept on, somehow, and it was with some reticence that she pulled herself away from him and followed her nose towards the heavenly smell coming from the kitchenette.

 

He’d conjured a lantern, which was glowing softly with a blue flame inside, and Hermione wondered at his ingenuity. It was such a beautiful piece of transfiguration that she could not tell what it had been before.  Though Hermione had known that Severus was good at potions and Dark spellwork, she hadn’t realized how skilled he might be at other types of magic.

 

By the time she’d dispelled the Stasis Charm on the soup he’d left for her and greedily shoveled it into her mouth, not even caring when she scalded the tip of her tongue in the process, Hermione realized another surprising thing. 

 

Severus Snape was a _damn_ _good cook_.

 

She briefly considered licking the bottom of the bowl, but decided that it would be pretty pathetic, even considering how pathetic she’d been behaving lately.  Her belly was full and warm and Hermione felt a contented yawn coming on as she stretched her arms above her head, wincing when a tendon in her back popped back into place uncomfortably.

 

She stood and walked back into the doorway, watching Severus slumped halfway over the bed.  Now that her eyes were finally adjusted to the half-light in the room, she noticed that his knees were actually resting on the floor, and Hermione couldn’t see how he could be comfortable enough to sleep in such a position.  The fact that he was wearing his dragonhide boots also didn’t escape her notice and she knew she couldn’t just leave him like this.

 

Kneeling down, she began untying his shoes.  He stirred a little but did little more than turn his head to the other side, his breathing evening out as she pulled the boot free from his foot. The boot was a little smelly and still a bit damp, but Hermione simply Scourgified it and placed it to the side. She did the same for his other boot and placed it next to the first one. Then she pondered what to do next.  Levitating him might work, but it wouldn’t fix the position of his body.  But picking him up might not work either, even though he was rather thin and bony-looking under his robes.

 

Hermione made her decision and hoped it wasn’t the wrong one.

 

“Come on, Severus, you need to get up on the bed,” she said softly, bending down and trying to slide under one of his arms so that she could help pull him forward.

 

“Mmfffmm?” Severus mumbled in his sleep, but she could feel that dead weight lessen and he seemed to move much easier when she tugged him upwards and began to pull him parallel with the mattress on the bed.

 

“Ok, then,” Hermione said as his head hit the pillow, “That’s much better.”

 

“Thnggggkyuu,” he whispered, his sleep-choked words barely intelligible.  

 

“Well. Thank  _ you _ for the soup,” Hermione whispered back, kissing him on the cheek as her cheeks burned a rosy red, “and for staying near me while I slept.  It made me feel safe. I don’t know why, but...you just seem to have that effect on me. When you’re not fighting with me and acting like a bastard, that is.”

 

She thought she saw one corner of his mouth turn up slightly and a shaky breath almost like a chuckle from deep within himself escaped his mouth, but his eyes never opened as she lay there next to him.  To her surprise, though, when she began to move slightly away from him in an attempt to give him more room so he wouldn’t be wedged against the wall, his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.

 

“ _ Severus _ !” she squeaked, her eyes growing wide as he nuzzled against her and yawned, a peaceful smile spreading across his pinched, pale face before he began to breathe more deeply again and his grip on her relaxed.

 

Still, Hermione lay there for a long time with a stupid grin on her face that she couldn’t quite explain, savoring the warmth of his arms around her until she too closed her eyes and let sleep claim her once again.


	9. Open Your Eyes

When Hermione opened her eyes, she realized that she was sitting on a bench. She knew it well. It was the worn, wooden one from the nearby park that lay only a couple of blocks from her childhood home. She’d sat on its splintery seat many times throwing seeds and stale bread crumbs for the ducks. 

 

But, as she raised her head, she realized that she wasn’t in the park.  She was looking out over the Black Lake, which should have been impossible, but for some reason, her mind simply accepted it for what it was.  A tear slid down her cheek and landed on her lap and she realized, then, that she was crying steadily, though she couldn’t say what had prompted the emotion.  It was only after she’d noticed the tears that she was filled with a deep sense of sorrow, as though someone dear to her had died but she couldn’t remember who it was.

 

And then, there was a loud crackling of fabric as it was snapped back in the wind and she looked up to see a much older Severus Snape striding purposefully towards her with a nasty scowl upon his face. It was hard to see him clearly through the blurriness of her tear-filled eyes, but she knew him at once.

 

“Miss Granger.  What in the Seven Hells are you doing  _ here _ ?” he hissed; his yellowed teeth and greasy hair framing his face in a terrifying manner.

 

“I...I don’t…” Hermine blubbered, trying futilely to stop herself from crying, “W..what do you…?”

 

“I mean,” Snape said, stopping directly in front of her and crossing his arms abruptly, “what are you doing out of class on a school day?  You also seem to have forgotten your... _ garments _ .”

 

Hermione looked down at her legs and realized that she had indeed forgotten to get dressed.  She was sitting in a pair of gray cotton underwear and a long, formless t-shirt.  She grabbed at the hem of the shirt and tried desperately to pull the material down past her thighs, but the material wasn’t very stretchy and she only succeeded in tiring herself out. She felt a stab of self-consciousness and terror before her mind suddenly realized that she was dreaming.

 

“Why should I even be worried?” Hermione asked, crossing her arms and looking at the grumpy-faced professor. “I already graduated, so you can’t exactly take points from my House.  Besides, you’re dead and I’m dreaming.”

 

“ _ Oh _ ?” His voice had changed and she didn’t have to look at him to know that he was arching an eyebrow at her. “Well, then, if you are dreaming, then what do you think of this?”

 

He closed the distance between both of them and he turned on his heel, sliding into the open space next to her with a flourish of robes that looked somehow both cartoonishly theatrical and severe at the same time.  

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione asked as she turned to look at him cautiously only to find him staring at her intently.

 

“Look at me, Hermione,” he said, suddenly, and she couldn’t help it.  She felt drawn to stare into the darkness of his eyes.

 

It was then that everything in the dream seemed to slow down.  Hermione was vaguely aware of a bird flying so slowly through the clear blue sky that she could see each individual beat of its wings.  She could hear a tree’s leaves moving slowly in the breeze, making a deep rattling noise that unsettled her.  And then there were the dark eyes that held her gaze unblinkingly, the scent of his robes both herbal and spicy as he reached towards her and cupped her face in his calloused, scarred hands.

 

“Severus,” she whispered, almost wondering if she’d only thought his name instead of uttering it aloud.

 

His eyes went wide and he pulled her to him, slowly closing the distance between their lips until she could hardly stand the anticipation of it any longer.

 

When he kissed her, she couldn’t help but keep her eyes open, holding his gaze as their lips pressed together and he tentatively licked at her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

 

She inhaled deeply.  Good lord, but he smelled divine and the flavor of his lips was pleasurable beyond words. The fact that he had let out an obviously unintentional moan was even more titillating and Hermione felt herself driven to press back, to mark him, to make him  _ hers _ .

 

He pulled her close as she kissed him harder, licking at his lips until he allowed her to press inside of his mouth.  She didn’t even care that she was probably running her tongue over his yellowed teeth, for all she could think of was the taste and scent of him filling her sense until she thought she might burst.

 

It felt so real and lovely that Hermione would have been content to dream-snog Snape forever had she not realized that many of these sensations were so absurdly real to her that she could barely believe that her mind could create them.

 

Pulling back slightly, she caught her breath and looked at him again.

 

“Are you...real?” she asked, knowing she sounded far more naive than she wanted to sound.

 

He snorted and smirked at her.

 

“You of all people should know the difference between fantasy and reality,” he replied shortly, though the harshness never quite reached his eyes or his fingers, which were twisting idly around her hair as he held her tightly with his other hand. “Now, then, I want you to go back and talk some sense into me before I muck everything up.  Can you do that for me, Hermione?”

 

Hermione nodded, not knowing what to say.  She was still confused about what all of this meant.  She’d obviously never harbored even a fleeting crush on Professor Snape while she’d been in school, but after meeting his younger self, there was something growing in her heart that she’d never felt before.

 

“I...but…” she stammered, feeling lost.

 

And suddenly he was kissing her again, and her mind was zooming along at a million miles a minute and she didn’t care anymore about who he was or how he appeared.  She simply focused on the sensations and swore to herself that she would never allow herself to forget them.

 

“Wake up, Hermione,” he panted into her mouth as she desperately fumbled with the buttons at his throat. “Wake up, or I won’t-”

 

But she didn’t find out what he wouldn’t be able to do, because it was at that moment that she found herself back in the bed in the magical tent in the frozen wasteland within the Room of Requirement.

 

And she was on top of the much younger and very confused-looking Severus Snape, who was still shaking her gently awake when her eyes fluttered open.

 

“Merlin’s balls!” Hermione cursed, feeling her face light up with embarrassment, “I’m so sorry, what was I-?”

 

“Before you go on commending me for being noble, you must know that I didn’t want to wake you,” Severus said, turning his head to the side as he blushed furiously. “But...but it was the right thing to do and I couldn’t let you continue to kiss me if you were still asleep.  Are you aware that you are surprisingly strong? I couldn’t seem to keep you from pinning me down like this and...er...it’s rather  _ inconvenient _ , if you know what I mean.”

 

Hermione suddenly noticed that she was straddled over a rather lumpy part of him that was growing lumpier by the moment. Even though she was horribly embarrassed that she’d been sleep-snogging (and also apparently inadvertently  _ actually _ snogging) Severus Snape, there was a growing part of her that was filled with an insistent sort of need that couldn’t be fulfilled with mere kisses. 

 

And yet…

 

Hermione bit her lip and summoned every ounce of Gryffindor courage as she bent down until her lips were nearly touching his.

 

“Do...do you want me to continue?” she whispered breathlessly, her eyes searching his with wide-eyed curiosity.

 

“Oh, yesssss...yes  _ please… _ .” he whimpered back, his body so rigid from trying to control what was certainly an instinctive desire to grab her that it nearly seemed painful.

 

“Severus,” she whispered softly, touching his cheek the way his older self had touched hers in the dream. “Please. Touch me. I  _ need _ you to touch me.”

 

He didn’t need to be told twice.

 

And, as she finally brought her lips crashing down against his, their mutual desire taking hold of all rational thought, Hermione couldn’t help but realize that his scent and taste were slightly different than what she’d encountered in the dream, which was decidedly odd.

 

There was no time to think, though.  There was only their bodies moving together, nerves singing with pleasure as they allowed each other the blessed luxury of forgetting everything but the feeling of skin upon skin.


	10. Afterglow

 

Hermione stared intently as Severus collapsed back onto the mattress of the bottom bunk.  She used the last of her strength to hold herself up with her aching arms so that she could look down at the naked wonder on his face. Without meaning to, she could feel her mouth curl into a satisfied, sated smile. His brow was slick with sweat and his hair fanned out around his thin, relaxed face.  His head was tipped back against the pillow, baring his throat, and she could see the prominent lump of his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he recovered, breath by ragged breath. His eyes, though...his eyes were wide and full of an intensity that filled her belly with butterflies as he fixed them on hers, refusing to look away even when a drop of sweat slid into one of his eyes and he stiffened with the stinging pain of it.

 

“Oh no. That just won’t do,” Hermione said softly, bringing her face down to his.

 

He opened his mouth as though about to say something, but his breathing was still erratic and she shook her head slightly to tell him it was okay if he needed more time.

 

With the tip of her tongue, she gently licked at the sweat that was threatening to drip into his other eye, rubbing her hand across his forehead and stroking his hair. She savored the hum of pleasure that escaped his lips like a deep, thrumming purr. It filled her with a warmth that she’d never known and she was encouraged to do it again.

 

And so she did.

 

_ Lick. _

 

_ Purr. _

 

_ Lick. _

_   
_ _ Purr. _

 

It became an increasingly languid game until she finally collapsed onto her side, her muscles aching. She panted pulled her hair behind one ear, feeling suddenly shy even though she couldn’t explain why. His arms were around her in a moment and she looked up at him with pleading eyes.  He kissed her, then, and she squeaked with surprise, and then he smiled and kissed her again, his arms holding her as though he were afraid she were about to disappear.

 

“If it was your goal to make it so that I could not live without you, then you have succeeded,” he said at last, his voice husky and thick.

 

“I could say the same thing to you, you know,” she replied, bringing her hand up to grasp his jaw gently, her thumb gently stroking him as she raised her head to press her lips against his once more.

 

“What am I going to do with you, Hermione?” he asked lazily, “If things keep going like this, I really  _ will _ have to risk breaking time and space.”

 

“Oh, well, if that’s  _ all _ !” Hermione replied, and they both snorted at the absurdity of it all.

 

“The Room of Requirement would not have allowed us to enter unless there was some reason for it,” Severus mused, “but I still cannot seem to understand how our Patronuses factor into it.”

 

“Severus,” Hermione said slowly, “Tell me, how do you feel?”

 

A flush rose on his cheeks and his expression began to resemble that of a deer caught in headlights.

 

“It’s not a trick question, you know,” Hermione said, her belly doing somersaults at the implication of her words. “I meant... _ temperature-wise _ .  How do you feel?”

 

Severus frowned and then his eyes widened again.

 

“I am... _ warm _ .  But...how?” His voice was tinged with surprise.

 

“I haven’t felt like this for...over a year,” Hermione replied, placing the palm of her hand against his before lacing her fingers through his.  

 

And indeed, she was deliciously, toe-curlingly warm.  She wanted to lie under the comforter next to Severus forever.

 

“You...you do not know how long I have wanted to feel…” he trailed off, looking away from her as though struggling with the words. “I...do not wish to leave this bed as long as you are here with me.”

 

Hermione blushed as well, thinking of how his sentiments were nearly identical to hers.

 

“Are you...uncomfortable?” 

 

She blinked. “What?”

 

He rolled onto his back and reached down to the floor for his wand, which seemed to have rolled onto the floor at some point, and lifted the covers slightly.

 

“I...er...there’s... _ stuff _ ,” he said, reddening even further.

 

Hermione couldn’t help herself.  She shook with silent laughter for a few moments before nodding her head. 

 

“A  _ Scourgify _ or two would be nice, yes,” she clarified. She would probably have done it already, but her wand was tangled somewhere in the robes she’d thrown to the floor in the heat of the moment, and she really,  _ really _ did not want to get out of bed.

 

“You know, it feels as though I’ve known you forever, Hermione,” he said softly, once he’d finished cleaning them both up, the fingers on his opposite hand still tightly woven between hers.

 

She shivered with delight at the sound of her name on his lips. It didn’t help that the  _ way _ he said it made her shiver as though she could still sense the feeling of his fingers caressing her body.  He’d never called her  _ that _ , not when she’d known him as the scowling Bat of the Dungeons. It was always “Miss Granger” or “you, there” or “damned know-it-all.”

 

“Forever is a long time, Severus,” she replied, biting at her lip slightly as the embarrassing words fought to break free from her lips. “But...forever with you...sounds lovely.”

 

Severus smiled at this, the unpracticed expression looking somewhat tentative on his face.  He searched her eyes as though worrying that she was about to let him in on some secret practical joke and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had happened to make him so untrusting.  Part of her simply didn’t want to know, for she suspected that it was incredibly torturous, not only to hear, but for Severus to relive.

 

“Come with me, then,” he said, squeezing her gently and kissing her forehead. “To hell with the old man and his Chosen One. Lily...she...is gone forever, and besides, she was never  _ mine _ , not like  _ that _ . Like  _ this _ . I may have thought at one point...but...in the end, it was her friendship that I mourned the most.  You must understand.  She was the only one who showed me kindness other than some of my mother’s more...lucid...moments when she was not being treated like a human punching bag.”

 

“It’s only the space-time continuum,” Hermione quipped. “What could happen?”

 

“Would you like to try summoning a Patronus again?” Severus asked suddenly.

 

“Not if it means that I will have to get out of bed,” Hermione grumbled, pulling the comforter up to her nose.

 

“No, I mean...here,” Severus turned and summoned Hermione’s wand from under the pile of their clothing that lay on the floor.  He handed it to her and she nuzzled against his chest with a thankful noise.

 

“Hold my hand, please, Severus,” Hermione said, smiling as he laced his fingers through hers and they lay on their backs staring up at the bottom of the bunk above them.

 

“On three, okay?” he asked, holding his wand in his left hand.

 

“Aren’t you going to use your right?” Hermione asked.  She’d always seen him use his right hand regularly as an adult.

 

“No…” he trailed off, his eyes darkening for a moment, “I...cast my most powerful spells with my left hand. It is...a secret shame.”

 

“Being left handed is not shameful!” Hermione said fiercely, turning to look at him sympathetically. “Is  _ that _ what they  _ told  _ you?”

 

He nodded, looking mortified.

 

“You couldn’t have known.  If that’s all anyone ever told you...oh, Severus, you did not deserve to have been treated so...cruelly!” Hermione could feel the pricking of angry tears in the corners of her eyes.

 

“Please...Hermione,” he said uncomfortably. “Make it go away.   _Kiss_ _me_.  Kiss me and let me forget it all, even if it’s only for a moment.”

 

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat that was almost like a cry of indignation at those who had harmed him, and before he knew it, she was kissing and kissing him and her mind was blank with the pleasure of his flavor on her lips and his spicy, distinctive scent in the air she breathed.

 

“Let’s try again,” he said breathlessly, once they both came up for air.  

 

Hermione nodded, sucking slightly on her lower lip as she tried to stop herself from simply launching on top of him again.

 

“Three...two...one! EXPECTO PATRONUM!” They both cried out together, pointing their wands up above them.

 

Bright, spectral light shot from their wands in tandem, the color and energy swirling around and mixing in the air. Hermione could feel her stomach flipping and twisting as they coalesced together into forms, which danced and twisted in the air above them both.

 

Long, sleek bodies and bristly whiskers...they chased and gamboled through the air, nipping at each other’s tails and swimming in lazy circles.

 

“It...it changed?” Hermione asked, bewildered.

 

“I thought you said that yours was an otter,” Severus said, puzzled.

 

“Well...before...it was a  _ sea _ otter,” Hermione said, “Now, it’s a...river otter! They’re longer and a lot more...playful.”

 

“Oh?” Severus arched an eyebrow at Hermione before he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. “I suppose I’ll just have to show you how playful I can be under the right circumstances.”

 

Hermione giggled as he nuzzled her cheek and his hair tickled her slightly.

 

“We did it, though! This means we can finally…” Hermione trailed off as she realized what she was saying.

 

“Hermione, I meant what I said,” Severus said seriously, his eyes growing intense again, “I will walk to the edge of the earth or unravel time itself if that is what it takes.  I...I love you.”

 

His face was as shocked as hers felt as he said the words, but the moment they left his lips, she knew that they were true.  What’s worse, she was filled with a deep sense of knowing that she felt the same.

 

His hands flew to his mouth and he shook his head.   
  


“NO! I...I’m sorry! I...didn’t mean to- please...don’t hate me!”  Severus moaned, his eyes wide with the terror of losing that which he’d just discovered.

 

“I could never be mad at you for loving me, Severus,” Hermione replied, steeling herself, “I...the truth is...I love you too.  I know it’s stupid to say.  We’ve only known each other for such a short time but…”

 

“Sometimes, you just know.”

 

They both blinked at one another.  Somehow they’d said exactly the same thing at the same time.  To make things worse, they both snorted with laughter at the same time, which led to more laughing until finally, they both simply stared at one another, their faces full of contentment and a quiet joy.

 

“I love you, Severus,” Hermione ventured again.

 

“And...I love you, Hermione,” Severus replied, kissing her lightly on the lips, “I...know it more than I’ve ever known anything in my life excepting magic.”

 

“Well, to be fair, I’d classify  _ this _ as magical,” Hermione replied, kissing him on the cheek.

  
Severus snorted and smiled at her again.  He was getting better at it, slowly but surely.

 

“I want to wake up to your warmth and your smile every single day,” Hermione continued, “I want to always feel at home when you are by my side.”

 

“An excellent idea,” Severus replied, smirking, “I wish I’d thought of it, but I shall have to content myself with enjoying its effects instead.”

 

Hermione laughed at that, and soon they were nearly in stitches as they cuddled and kissed and lay in the warmth of their mutual contentment.

 

The brightly glowing river otters, which had been playing an admirable game of “chase the tail” while they’d been talking,  twisted together above them once more before sliding past them and disappearing out of the tent flap with a mutual squeak.  Hermione could have sworn that she saw them wrap their tails together before they disappeared, but she wasn’t certain.

 

Her heart beat gratefully in her chest as Severus held her, and for what seemed like the fiftieth time since she’d found herself in this frozen wasteland, Hermione dearly wished that their time together would never end.


	11. The Long Journey Home

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m positive.”

 

Severus watched Hermione roll the tent up with a flick of her wand.  She opened the clasp on her beaded handbag and he stared with amazement as it slipped into the impossibly tiny purse easily.  They were left in the dark, spooky, wintery woods.  Severus knew that he shouldn’t be afraid, but he couldn’t help but reach out and grab Hermione’s free hand.  She turned and smiled at him gently, looking from where he’d clasped his fingers around hers up to his eyes, which he knew were full of intensity.  

 

“I love the way you look at me, Severus,” she said softly.

 

“And I love how soft your hand feels against mine,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently.

 

Hermione’s smile widened and she slipped the handbag onto her arm before nearly tackling him in a tight embrace.  

 

“I will protect you,” she said fiercely, “No one should die or live the miserable existence that you have been forced to endure, either in your past or in my future.”

 

“Time is a fickle thing, Hermione,” Severus replied, rubbing her forefinger with his thumb, “but if what you say is true, there are many deaths that can be prevented.”

 

When they’d awoken, Hermione had told Severus everything she could remember, all about those who died, the things that were keeping Voldemort alive, and even the secrets of the Marauders.

 

“I knew that Lupin was a werewolf,” Severus said, his voice deadpan as he learned this information, “but it makes a twisted sort of sense that the others were animals of a kind as well. Unfortunately, they seemed to have a penchant for acting beastly even while in human form.”

 

“Not all animagi are like that!” Hermione protested.  “Professor McGonagall would never do such terrible things! Thanks to her example, I’ve even considered trying to achieve a full animagus transformation as well!”

 

“And sometimes a rat is a rat, even when it’s in human form,” Severus seethed. “If I was an animagus, I’d want to be a boa constrictor.  I’d squeeze the life out of that little pudgy bastard!”

 

“That’s why I’m coming with you, Severus,” Hermione replied, kissing his cheek and making him blush furiously. “There are better ways to punish someone who is a dirty rat no matter what form he takes.”

 

He snorted and cocked his head at her.  “I am sure that whatever you’ve planned is delightfully horrifying.”

 

“Would you honestly expect anything less from me?” Hermione replied, grinning.

 

“So then, any ideas on convincing the Room of Requirement to let us back out again?” Severus asked.

 

“Funny you should ask,” Hermione replied, raising her wand. “It actually came to me last night when I was drifting off to sleep, but I decided to wait until we’d packed up before bringing it up.”

 

“And what is that?”

 

“Well, you know how the Room of Requirement works, right?” Hermione asked.

 

“Well, I know that the basic idea,” Severus replied with a shrug.   
  


“It only appears when you really need it for something specific, so it’s not as though it just materialises for no reason,” Hermione said sagely, “but in my case, I was so upset about being unable to cast a Patronus, that all I could think about was that I needed the ability to do it again. And then...it brought me to...you.”

 

“It hardly seems like a coincidence when you put it like that,” Severus replied thoughtfully. “So, then, now that we know how to cast a Patronus, do you think that is how we find the door out?”

 

“Well, that’s the thing. I was thinking about the door in the Room of Requirement back when we used to have the DA,” Hermione replied, ignoring the confused expression on his face.  “Either the door will materialize if we ask it to do so, or it will test us to make sure that we are fit to leave.”

 

Either way, I think it’s a good idea to be prepared,” Severus said, nodding in agreement.

 

Hermione nodded. “Let’s practice summoning our Patronuses a bit and then try for real.”

 

Holding hand, they summoned their Patronuses together, watching the glowing river otters run circles in the snow around where they stood, hand in hand.  Each time, the adorable, lithe creatures would seem to last just a bit longer before dissipating.

 

“I think that we are nearly ready,” Hermione panted at last, stretching her arms out.

 

Severus stretched as well and sighed with relief as some of the tension left his wrists and arms.  He hadn’t realized that stretching oneself was such a deliciously wonderful thing, though he was pretty sure that it had to do with the fact that the one that he loved was so close by.

 

“Are you ready?” Hermione asked. ”This could be tough.”

 

“I don’t care.  You are worth it.  A future where nobody dies before their time is worth it.” Severus looked into her eyes, his voice shaking with emotion.

 

“Close your eyes, then, Severus,” Hermione said gently.  “Think very hard about needing to go home.   _ Want _ it with every fiber of your being.”

 

“There is only one thing I want with every fiber of my being,” Severus replied, enveloping her in his arms, “As long as you feel the way I do about you, I shall want nothing more for all of my remaining days.”

 

Hermione smiled sadly. “We must be prepared for any outcome.  But I promise that, no matter what, if we get separated, we will find one another again.”

 

“Never!” Severus said, grasping her even more tightly. “I would rather... _ die _ .”

 

“Come on, then, Severus.  You need to focus on your door!” Hermione said gently, caressing his cheek.

 

Severus shut his eyes tightly and imagined the door that he’d entered through. He thought harder and harder about it until he was sure that his eyes would bruise.

 

“I see it!” Hermione cried triumphantly.

 

He opened his eyes and indeed, the door stood before them even though it didn’t seem to be attached to anything at all.  All of a sudden, the wind seemed to kick up and it howled through the skeletal trees as though it had a mind of its own.

 

“I’m not letting go of your hand!” he cried out, over the noise, taking a step towards the door.  

 

The knob was freezing cold and he twisted it, expecting resistance or for it to be locked, but it slid open easily. The darkness beyond was terrifying until he realized that it wasn’t darkness.  It was something blocking the hallway on the other side.

 

It was the largest dementor he’d ever seen.  

 

As he stepped towards it, it became somewhat indistinct, but as Hermione came closer to it, he could see it growing more defined and it began to move towards her.  Severus pulled Hermione behind him and he could see that horrible hooded face jerk over towards his direction.

 

“It doesn’t want you to come through the door!” he cried out, his voice caught between a sob and a roar of anger.

 

He could feel the dementor’s apathy and despair filling him up and he nearly dropped Hermione’s hand as he stumbled and stepped back from the creature before them.

 

“Severus, we can defeat it!” Hermione hollered back, squeezing his hand, and he blinked, realizing that he was being foolish.

 

“Together, then!” he called out hoarsely, raising his wand.

 

“ _ Together _ ,” Hermione agreed, coming to stand at his side and pointing her wand at the spectral creature, which was now bearing down upon them, skeletal claws splayed out with murderous intent.

 

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” they screamed together, their wands pointed at the creature.  Two otters shot from the tips of their wands, twisting and flying towards the beast.  They nuzzled and wrapped their front paws and tails together turning around in a ring of light, faster and faster until they were an orb-like blur.  The creature backed up as though unsure what to do before the ball connected, dissolving the head of the dementor, which let out a final ghoulish scream before the rest of it began to dissipate as well.

 

With a rumble, they could feel the world began to tremble under them.  Trees began to shake and sink through the earth as though it was less substantial than water.

 

“Quick! Hermione! Let’s go!” Severus cried, pulling her through the open door.  As they passed the threshold, they both winced at the sensation of an electric pulse passing over them, but then it was over and they found themselves collapsed on a familiar cold, stone floor, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

 

Severus only had a moment to look back to see the door swing shut and dissolve, just like the massive dementor had. His body felt weak and ached as though he’d been walking for weeks instead of the day or two he’d suspected it had been.

 

“ _ Severus _ .”  Hermione was lying on her side next to him, her eyes fluttering as though she was struggling to keep them open.  It seemed so odd that they’d slept so much and yet, they were still so exhausted, but he couldn’t think about that now. All he could think about was making sure that Hermione was really there with him; that her existence wasn’t just some delusion or cruel dream.

 

“We’re safe now,” he whispered back, his voice breaking slightly with the feeling of triumph that bubbled in his belly.

 

He hugged Hermione tightly against his body, inhaling her scent and promising himself that he would never, ever forget it as long as he lived.

 

And with that last thought, the darkness of unconsciousness swallowed him up and he knew no more.


	12. A Gryffindor in the Grass

Hermione opened her eyes gingerly and groaned as her head pulsed with pain. The light was not too bright, but compared to the darkness of the snowy forest, it might as well have been the middle of the day.

 

“Mffffff,” she growled, trying to move unsuccessfully.

 

As her blurry eyesight began to clear, she realized that something...no... _ someone _ was holding onto her. The dark hair that fell messily into his face filled her with a sense of recognition.

 

“Nrghhhh,  _ Harry _ , stop that,” she whispered dazedly, “I don’t need you to...mrggggh...wait…”

 

Her eyes snapped open.

 

No. Not Harry.

 

The eye that wasn’t covered with fine, black hair was closed, so she couldn’t see their color, but the lack of glasses and pale hook of a nose that stuck out from it was unmistakeable.

 

“Sna... _ Severus _ !” Hermione cried out, sneezing as she belatedly realized that she was lying on a freezing cold stone floor that was in sore need of a good dusting.

 

He let out a snort of breath and squeezed her more tightly against his chest.

 

Well.  _ That _ didn’t work.

 

“Severus! Wake  _ up _ !” Hermione hissed, trying to look around to see if anyone else was in the vicinity.

 

He mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over onto his back, causing her to squeak with surprise, as he was still holding onto her. She came to rest on top of him again, but he was still nowhere closer to being awake than he had been before.  Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she smirked as she got a wicked idea.

 

Leaning forward, she licked him on the tip of his nose.

 

_ Lick. Lick. Lick. Liiiiiick. _

 

“GWAH!” Severus cried out, his eyes snapping wide as he pulled his hands up to his face.

 

“Welcome back, Severus,” Hermione said, trying to hold her laughter back from behind her hand.

 

“ _ Hermione _ ?” Severus asked incredulously, pulling his hands away from his face and throwing them tightly around her again. “ _ Hermione _ !”

 

“ _ Oof _ ! Well, I’m not the Easter Bunny,” Hermione replied with a smirk. “And sorry for the unconventional wake-up call, but I tried waking you the normal way and it didn’t work.”

 

“Ugh. I’m freezing...wait...are we on the floor?” he asked, blinking with confusion.

 

“Yeah. Hence the whole  _ trying to wake you up _ thing,” Hermione replied. “I figured that it might not exactly look very good if you were discovered lying on the ground with your arms around someone wearing Gryffindor student’s robes.”

 

“Bugger what anyone thinks,” Severus grumbled, but Hermione could see the way his eyes darted down both sides of the hallway suspiciously.

 

He released his grasp on her, though his fingers lingered on the hem of her sleeve, and Hermione smiled gently in return.

 

“Just give me a moment,” she said, pulling her wand out of her sleeve, “I didn’t come out at the top of my Charms and Transfiguration classes  for seven years with nothing to show for it.”

 

With a wave of her wand and a couple of muttered spells, Hermione’s robes went a deep, stormy gray with blue trim.  They shortened just slightly enough to show her legs up to the knee, but they weren’t overly showy.  There wasn’t anything too ornate embroidered onto them, but a simple,  golden thread wove its way through the outfit, giving her a slight shimmer as she moved.

 

Severus looked at her with something like shock on his face.

 

“To be honest, half of these were from those back issues of Witches Weekly that Lavender kept stacking up next to my bed because she already filled up the entire underside of her bed and I happened to get bored this one rainy weekend and- never mind how I know how to do this!” Hermione blustered, blushing furiously at the look he was giving her.

 

“Impressive,” he breathed, touching the soft material of her sleeve when she stretched out her arm to show him the detail, “I did fairly well in Charms and Transfiguration, but I never really focused much on becoming truly skilled.  For some reason I simply never considered them worth my time.”

 

“I didn’t either, you know,” Hermione replied, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment, “but you’d be surprised how much extra time you have available to learn useless things when you have fewer friends than you can count on one hand.”

 

Severus nodded. “I know the feeling.”

 

“Come, now,” Hermione said, breathing deeply and smiling mysteriously, “If anyone asks, I’m your mysterious date.”

 

“Actually,” Severus replied, grabbing her hand and threading his fingers through hers. “I have an even better idea.”

 

“Do I still get to be mysterious?” Hermione asked, her heart filling with a strange sense of headiness as he pulled her closer and they began to walk at a steady gait towards the stairs.

 

“Even better,” Severus said with a grin that made her shudder deliciously. “I shall tell you about it on the way, and if you agree, it will leave you above reproach when it comes to...consorting...with me.”

 

Hermione blushed, her thoughts straying to the ring she’d seen on Ginny’s finger when she’d come back from their last Hogsmeade trip.  She hadn’t told many people what had happened, but Hermione had known even before Harry had proposed.  After all, he’d enlisted her as his spy, trying to find out things like Ginny’s ring size and her favorite stone and metal type so that he could choose the very best engagement setting for her.

 

Surely, not, though.  It was far too early on into their... _ whatever their relationship was to one another _ ...for such things.  Still, Hermione couldn’t help but stare up at him with an eager expression, hating how easily she laid her emotions bare for others.

  
  


“Your... _ familiar _ ?” Professor Minerva McGonagall looked at the long, sleek creature with a cross between pity and confusion in her eyes.

 

“Yes.” Severus said uncomfortably. “She...Hermione..,saved me. It was a bond that developed unexpectedly.”

 

Hermione stood up on her haunches with a growling squeak and stared at the floor.  She could feel the stares of everyone on her, especially the cold, blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

 

“But...surely…” sputtered Professor Flitwick, “It's a river otter! A wild creature that deserves to be free and in the wild!”

 

Hermione clicked and whuffed disapprovingly, running over to Severus and wrapping herself around his leg protectively. 

 

“She is not an  _ it _ ,” Severus growled. “If you would like to call her something, her name is Hermione!”

 

“Argus is allowed his familiar,” Professor Sprout piped in helpfully, “As are the children. Though she is not a conventional familiar, it does appear they share a bond. I, for one, think it's a lovely idea!”

 

Hermione squeaked happily and rolled into her back, clapping her forepaws in response. She hoped she wasn't hamming it up too much, but even Flitwick appeared to be charmed by her antics.  

 

“This is...true,” Minerva said, and Hermione could tell from the Transfiguration professor’s expression that her resolve not to reach down and pet the adorable muskaloid was wavering. In the end, Professor McGonagall straightened her spine and sat back down, her Gryffindor bluster finally exhausted. 

 

This was just as well, as Hermione was in the mood to nip at anyone who thought that petting her out of nowhere was a good idea. 

 

“Hullo Hermione!” Hagrid said genially with a trash-can-lid sized wave, his great whiskered cheeks growing warm with the excitement of meeting a new friend, “You jus’ let me know if’n you wan’ to come fishin’ with me!”

 

“Well, then,” Dumbledore said, his voice growing somewhat deeper than usual before it returned to its normal doddering tone, “The matter is settled. Your familiar should be allowed to stay. See that it does not interfere with your duties here at Hogwarts, Severus. I shall be certain to inform the House Elves to add a place at the table for your familiar. Welcome, Hermione.”

 

With that, Dumbledore bent down and patted her affably on the head. Hermione held back her natural instinct to bite and simply let out an annoyed growling squeak. 

 

“If that's all, then I pronounce this staff meeting adjourned,” McGonagall said, with a glance at the headmaster, who nodded. 

 

On their way out, Dumbledore cleared his throat and Severus turned reluctantly back to face the headmaster. 

 

“Yes, Sir?” He asked tiredly. 

 

“I shall leave you the rest of the afternoon to set up your quarters to accommodate your new friend, here,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he looked at the river otter, who had glomped rather securely to the Potions Master’s leg, “however, I would like you to come...by yourself...to my office after dinner. I am certain that your familiar will find many diversions to keep her busy while you and I have a  _ little _ chat. We have much to discuss.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out in Dumbledore’s general direction once the door to the staff room had finally closed behind them as Severus sighed deeply.  It was obvious that the upcoming meeting would not be pleasant, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to go back in there and chomp down on the old man’s wrinkled ankle, no matter how awful it tasted. 

 

“Come on, then, Hermione,” Severus said, bending down and scooping her up in his arms. 

 

Hermione slid up onto his shoulders and lay there like a scarf, chuffing loudly against his cheek in a most ticklish manner.

 

“Okay! Okay!” Severus snickered loudly, “We’ll go to my room!”

 

Hermione squeaked in approval.

 

Though being transfigured into the very form of her patronus hadn’t exactly been what she was expecting when Severus had mentioned a plan, Hermione was beginning to see the perks of a furry form.

 

Maybe, when all this was over, she’d ask Professor McGonagall to help her develop a proper animagus transformation.

 

That is, if they  _ first _ both survived the incessant meddling of one Albus Dumbledore.


	13. Certainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Warning, thar be a bit ‘o sexytimes! But first, angst, of course. ;)

As soon as Severus could bolt the door to his chambers, he drew his wand from the folds of his robes and pointed it at the otter, who stood on her hind legs looking at him with big, dark eyes.

 

Moments later, Hermione was standing next to him, sighing with relief.

 

“I like being an otter more than I thought I would when you first suggested it,” she said with a grin, “but honestly, I prefer being human.”

 

“It’s only a temporary measure,” Severus assured her, “With so many prying eyes around the castle, the best way for you to move around without issue is if you have a reason for being here and therefore don’t seem out of place.  The only other thing I could think of was to introduce you as my fiance, but that would open a number of inquiries into who you are long before the wedding.”

 

He blushed as he glanced over and saw that Hermione’s eyes had gone wide at this new information.

 

“So you’re saying that…we would actually...” Hermione trailed off, looking more and more flushed.

 

“It was just an idea!” Severus said, shaking his hands back and forth as though trying to erase the words he’d just said. “And anyway, I didn’t mean to presume that you feel that way about...me...”

 

“I...I know that we haven’t known one another properly for long,” Hermione started hesitantly, “But...maybe...when all of this is over, if you still feel the same way about me…”

 

He took a step forward, his arms at his sides, though it was obvious that he wanted to wrap them around her.

 

“It feels like everything that happened in the Room of Requirement was a dream,” Severus said huskily, his eyes locked on hers and filled with unspoken intensity, “I...I worry that I have taken advantage of you in some way, and I cannot in good conscience expect you to go along with my actions if there is something else that you would rather do.”

 

Hermione smiled gently at him, reaching up to pull a stray strand of hair that had fallen across one eye and smoothed it back behind his ear.  He shivered at the lightness of her touch, his eyes growing half-lidded with pleasure. It was obvious that he was not used to a kindly touch of any kind, and it made Hermione’s heart ache for him.

 

“I fought that monster and came with you because I want to help you save the world, Severus,” she said, finally. “There is nowhere else I would rather be than here. Besides, you are the reason that I can summon a Patronus again, and for that I will always be grateful.”

 

His lips turned up at the corners at her kind words, but the resulting expression looked more like a sad grimace than a smile.

 

She turned around and gazed at the furnishings in the large, elegant room, which sported a number of bookcases with a pair of wingback chairs and a long, green velvet sofa, a desk and a long, wide four-poster bed.  There were two doors on the far wall, one which she assumed was a closet and the other that she figured would probably be a bathroom of sorts. Large, stained glass windows opened out into the lake, letting a greenish-blue light into the room.  Though logically, it should have been freezing cold and damp so deep down in the dungeons and under a body of water, the room was cheery and warm with a healthy flame crackling in the fireplace.

 

“Wow, I’m impressed at how spacious it is in here!” Hermione said, spinning around on the plush rug in the middle of the room.

 

“It’s not like this on my account,” Severus said bitterly, “As I am the recently appointed Head of Slytherin House, I simply inherited this room from my predecessor, who inherited it from his predecessor and so on and so forth.  Though, I shall admit that I asked for the bookcases. I also took down the painting of the yodeling monks that was across from the bed.  They kept waking me up with their incessant warbling at odd hours of the night.”

 

Hermione snickered at this and ran her fingers across the spines of the books as she looked at them.

 

“You sure do have a lot of books,” she murmured, glancing over to the bookcase across from her, which seemed to double as a potions ingredients and caulderon storage shelf.

 

“Many of these were my mother’s books.  I inherited them when she...passed on,” Severus said sadly, “I also purchased a number of them from doing odd jobs, selling off custom potions and tutoring students in school.  Some were thrown out or discarded.  I...repaired them.”

 

Hermione looked back at him, her eyes huge with amazement.

 

“Really?” she asked eagerly, looking more carefully at the covers. “It’s beautiful work.  I can scarcely notice which were purchased new and which have been repaired!”

 

“You can...sleep here,” Severus said, turning and making a gesture with his hand towards the bed, “I will take the sofa, and if you need privacy to change, I can- why are you laughing?”

 

He narrowed his eyes as he stared at Hermione, who was shaking her head and covering her mouth as she tried not to laugh and failed miserably.

 

“It’s just...we slept  _ together _ in the same bed already...multiple times!” Hermione exclaimed through peals of laughter, “Doesn’t it seem a bit late for the gentlemanly approach?”

 

Severus stared at her with wide eyes, the flush rising across the bridge of his nose as he turned his head and mumbled something indistinctly.

 

“What was that?” Hermione asked.

 

“I said that I couldn’t allow myself to hope that it was anything more than wishful thinking that you would want to continue  _ that _ particular arrangement,” he said uncomfortably. “We were in an extreme situation.  I understand why you might have felt compelled to behave in such a manner that has nothing to do with…”

 

“Nothing to do with what?” Hermione asked, her voice growing irritated as she put her hands on her hips.

 

“Now that you’re free, there are plenty of people who aren’t... _ me _ ,” Severus replied flatly. “I know that you want me to help you save the world, and I will stand by my word, but I just...I do not wish for you to feel like you must do things that you do not wish to do in order to achieve your goals.”

 

“Severus, what,  _ exactly _ , are you talking about?” Hermione asked pointedly, “I’m a Gryffindor.  I don’t exactly read between the lines well.”

 

“I simply do not want you to feel forced to endure my...intimate company,” Severus said, his eyes growing flat and emotionless, “I...apologise if I took advantage of you earlier, Hermione.  It’s simply unforgivable. I am used to being used when I am needed and then cast aside when I no longer serve a purpose.”

 

Hermione’s eyes filled with understanding and she frowned, looking at him with a hurt expression.

 

“Do you really think so poorly of me, Severus?” she asked, her voice small and pained.

 

“No!” Severus replied hastily, “I think you’re simply wonderful! You are kind and capable and beautiful and...that’s the problem! I...I am  _ not _ .”

 

“Severus, look into my eyes,” Hermione said, coming to a stop right in front of him and placing her hand on his chin as she gently angled his face down to look at hers. “Read my mind, my feelings with your legilimency. I know you can do it.  Look inside of me and tell me what you see.”

 

He tried to look away at first, as though afraid of seeing an ugly truth revealed in her gaze, but finally, he lifted his hand, cradling her face on one side and stared deeply into her eyes.

 

“ _ Legilimens _ ,” he whispered breathily, his lips only inches from hers.

 

Hermione nearly closed her eyes in pleasure from his touch and the feeling of his breath upon her skin, but she forced herself to hold them wide so that he could see everything that he needed to see.  Shivers of delight ran through her body as he entered her mind ever so carefully.  It was as though his power pressed against her as soft as velvet, caressing her from the inside out.  As though through a thick curtain, she felt his body tense up as he looked at her memories of his older self, sifting through flickering scenes that showed a boy who looked just like James Potter only with his mother’s eyes. Still, he never wavered, even as he watched Hermione hiding powerless behind the crates as he died horribly on the floor of a dirty shack, his blood pouring from a terrible wound.  

 

And then, as though someone had turned on a switch, Hermione could feel a sense of tentative happiness welling up from under the dark surface of his eyes as he experienced her joy at finding him alive in the snowy forest, even though she’d been initially surprised by the fact that he was inexplicably a far younger version of Severus Snape than she’d ever met before.  He let out an audible gasp as he experienced firsthand the strong attraction that she’d felt as they’d grown closer.  

 

When he pulled free from her mind, they both realized that somehow, they’d grown so close to one another that their foreheads were pressed together and it was only a matter of moments before his lips were pressed against hers and he was moaning deeply into her mouth, whispering that he  _ hadn’t dared to hope _ that it was all true…

 

She pressed back against him, her arms snaking around his waist and holding him firmly against her even though he was taller than her and she had to crane her neck up to meet his warm, soft lips.  He ran his fingers through her long, bushy hair, pulling her closer to him and kissing her even more deeply than before. They were so busy clawing and caressing one another as they stumbled backwards together, that they nearly fell onto the floor instead of the bed.  Luckily, it was such a huge bed, that they landed awkwardly at the bottom of the mattress instead.

 

She was undoing his buttons as best as her shaking hands could manage, and he was doing the same to her blouse, both of them oblivious to anything but the sexual energy that was building between them.  

 

When she was laid bare before him and the final article of his clothing slid down to the floor, he held her tightly, the sound of his hammering heart beating violently against her breast as they lay pressed chest to chest, their mouths working together in symmetry.

 

“Are you certain?” he breathed huskily, his eyes half-lidded with desire for her.

 

“ _ Yes _ , Severus. Are  _ you _ certain?” she asked him back, kissing his nose.

 

“More than I’ve been certain of anything in my entire life,” he replied, moaning into her mouth as she shifted, burying herself to the hilt with a sharp cry.

 

The room filled with quick, panting breaths and mutual moans as they moved together, their bodies hot and slick with sweat.  Hermione could feel small blue arcs of power flashing off of the surface of her skin, licking against his.  His magic responded in turn, mirroring the forks of static lightning that had built in her hair and over her body, only his were as dark and thick as smoke.

 

Abruptly, he held her hips in place with his firm grasp and she pulled back slightly, searching his eyes for why he had stilled the magical pleasure that was building within her body so abruptly. She was drunk with desire, her face so warm that it felt almost as though she had a fever, though the sensation had nothing to do with a virus and everything to do with the heady rush of lust and love that was filling her mind until there was nothing left but the pleasure of  _ him _ .

 

“I..can’t...not much more...unghhhh,” he gasped, trying to keep himself still even as she could feel him growing harder inside of her.

 

Hermione traced her finger in a wide circle around her lower abdomen, pressing a line through it, which glowed a bright sky blue briefly before it sank back into her skin.  It was one of the only spells she knew how to do without a wand, and that was because it was innately tied to her own body, similar to how most full-fledged animaguses could change form even when their wands were nowhere to be found.

 

“There,” she said with a shy smile, “Now...you can...if you want.”

 

His pained expression made her want to kiss him again.

 

“No!” he panted, horrified, “I...I can’t...not if you don’t also…”

 

He looked away, embarrassed at his lack of endurance.

 

“It didn’t bother me...when we...you know, before.”  It was Hermione’s turn to blush madly and he pulled her close again, hugging her tightly.

 

“I...I want you to feel good...as good as I….as you make me feel!” he whispered gruffly into her ear, and she shuddered with pleasure against him at how happy it made her feel.

 

“I feel happy,” she whispered back, “I…I don’t need you to…hold back.”

 

“Hermione, look at me,” Severus said, releasing her so that she could turn her head and look into his eyes once more. 

 

“What...what are you…?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

 

“Move against me.  Slowly... _ please.  _ Then, say it,” he panted, as he pressed his hand against her jaw as he had before when he’d read her mind, forcing his eyes open and capturing her gaze, even as she saw him struggling not to close them in the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

 

“What are you-” Hermione started.

 

“Say. It.” he ground out from between clenched teeth, “Say it, and  _ know _ what you do to me.”

 

Of course.  He was forcing himself to drop every defense he had in his mind, leaving himself wide open for her.  How could she have missed it before? His eyes were so full of emotion that they were growing watery with the effort of baring his soul and Hermione nodded ever so slightly as she moved on top of him.

 

“ _ Legilimens _ ,” she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder as she dove into the depths of his mind and there was nothing but heat and light as she felt him stiffen and cry out along with her, their eyes never breaking contact until both of them were spent and sated.

  
  


“Oh bollocks,” Severus groaned, prompting Hermione to open her eyes.  

 

They were lying in a sprawl of naked limbs on the unmade bed, and though the water of the Black Lake didn’t exactly seem any darker in the windowpanes of the room, somehow, Hermione could tell that it was very late.  

 

“Don’t go,” Hermione said sleepily, gripping him tightly and kissing him softly on his pale, bony shoulder, “At least, that’s what I  _ want _ to tell you. I  _ know _ , though. You have your duties.”

 

He shuddered in pleasure at the press of her lips against his skin and nodded, his dark hair falling over his eyes so she couldn’t see his pained expression, but she could  _ feel _ it in his body language, almost as though she were reading his mind.

 

“I will return as soon as I can,” he said, pulling himself from the bed reluctantly and dressing as quickly as he could in the firelight. He pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robes and used it to levitate and shake out the duvet, which had fallen to the floor at some point, draping it over Hermione’s naked body.  

 

“Mmmmmmm,” Hermione said, reveling in the softness and warmth of the fabric. “I still like  _ you _ better, though, Severus.”

 

He looked back at her with wide eyes and she could see the blush spreading across his cheeks even in the dim light in the room.

 

“Hermione…” he trailed off, running his hair through his fingers and slicking it back away from his eyes.

 

“Severus, I love you. For real, I promise,” she replied, her eyes going wide as she realized that she’d said it aloud.

 

He laughed, then, low and soft and he bent down over the bed, kissing her one final time.

 

“I shall never doubt you again, my love,” he said deeply, and she shivered as the commanding timbre of his voice shifted into something both familiar and new at the same time.  After all, the Professor Snape she’d known had never spoken to her like  _ that _ , not with such aching kindness and affection.

 

But as he turned and reluctantly slipped out of the door to meet with Dumbledore, Hermione watched him go, her eyes glowing in the firelight as she began to realize that her memories of the cruel man she knew were fading as this Severus,  _ her _ Severus; real, warm, and full of so much love and pain, began to fill her mind and her heart until she could barely recall a time where he hadn’t been a part of her life.

 

And she had to admit, there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to change everything so that they could be together always.


	14. Dangerous Conversations

 

“What a  _ particular _ aroma, Severus.  Tell me, have you been spending your time in certain...establishments down Knockturn Alley in an attempt to forget the one you sacrificed everything for?”

 

Severus stiffened and stared at the wall above the damnable old man, who had turned in his chair almost silently, a look of irritation mirrored in the coldness of his voice.

 

“I fell asleep, sir,” Severus said tersely, pulling up the irritation and anger he felt and pushing it in another direction- the fact that Dumbledore had to summon him when he could instead be in bed with-

 

He stopped himself abruptly and slammed down his Occlumency shields even more tightly than before.  

 

_ No _ .  The old man could  _ never _ know.

 

“Tell me, do you still go for the ones with red hair and green eyes, or do you simply make them spell them that way?”  Dumbledore was looking mildly down at some papers on his desk as though he was trying to make small talk, but his voice was anything but casual.

 

Severus felt his fingers dig into the sides of his robes with fury, but he would be damned if the old man would see that he’d gotten a rise out of his favorite Slytherin to torment.

 

“I do not need to explain my  _ adult _ behaviors to you, Headmaster, or whether or not said behaviors do indeed  _ exist _ .  If you will remember, giving you play-by-play details of my private activities is not in my contract,” Severus said instead, looking down his nose at Dumbledore with his most fearsome scowl.

 

“A pity, Severus,” Dumbledore replied, picking up a chipped teacup and taking a sip, “We could be such good  _ friends _ if you’d only let me in.”

 

“An honorable man does not kiss and tell, Albus,” Severus replied, crossing his arms.

 

“And since when were  _ you _ an honorable man, Severus? Tell me, was it before or after you had that madman brand you with a mark of evil?” Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses with an expression of disgust. “Why, if I recall correctly, if it hadn’t been for your cowardice at being forced to look into the familiar eyes of those you would be asked to kill, you would not have stepped forward at all.”

 

“I…” Severus trailed off, unable to reply.  Hot pinpricks of shame filled his chest and he began to breathe quickly.  It was as though he was slowly suffocating, no matter how much he tried to suck in the air.  His hands shook and he fell to one knee, his body tightening painfully as though it had decided to cramp up all at once.

 

“Only you can make it stop, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly as he stared at his fingernails.

 

“ _ Damn _ ...you...old man!” Severus gasped, pressing a hand to the floor as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine. You’re right.  I am the lowest thing in the history of low things.  I do not deserve... _ anything _ .”

 

Suddenly, he could breathe again and he stood quietly, breathing deeply through his nose, his face an emotionless mask.

 

“It is important that you know your place in the days and years to come, Severus,” Dumbledore said gently, “Forgive me for being put in a position to remind you of that fact. You will be an instrument through which I shall do great things, and as you know, a tool is only useful if it actually does what it is intended.”

 

“Yes  _ sir _ ,” Severus hissed, letting out all of his venom in the honorific.

 

“Now that all of that unpleasantness is done with, we can discuss what I wished to talk with you about earlier. In the upcoming months, I would like you to start looking at the students you are teaching and assess each of them and their families for likelihood of being in useful places once Voldemort returns.”

 

Severus flinched at the name, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.

 

“I have a number of key players from...desirable sources, whom I shall want to place in certain positions within the ministry and wizarding communities,” Dumbledore continued, stroking his beard, “I believe the muggles call them ‘sleeper agents.’  The idea is that we shall always have people we can trust in places where eyes and ears can watch for odd or suspicious activity.  It will greatly improve our chances of success.”

 

“I refuse to put students at a disadvantage simply because they are Slytherin,” Severus said disparagingly, “Honestly, Albus, that’s low, even for you.”

 

“Tut tut, Severus, I wasn’t saying anything of the sort!” Dumbledore replied, sounding genuinely hurt, “I simply think it’s time that you overhaul the thinking of your House without appearing to do so.  You are the master of subtlety, after all.  I’m sure that you will find a way to do it.”

 

“But sir, there are a number of pure-blooded families who will grow rather suspicious of me if I make too much of a fuss about their children’s ties to blood-purist ideas,” Severus replied uncomfortably, wringing his hands together, “They will doubt my allegiances if you do indeed believe that I shall have to go back and spy once more in the future.”

 

“Very well,” Albus replied, sipping his tea loudly, “I shall allow you to leave the so-called pure-blooded families alone, but you shall do what you can to push your Slytherins away from becoming followers of Voldemort.  It is imperative that you do this.  Need I remind you that the fewer numbers that Voldemort can amass, the fewer casualties we shall have to incur?”

 

Severus stared at the Headmaster with a horrified look on his face.

 

“You’re going to slaughter them with your bloody Gryffindor army, aren’t you?” Severus said, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

 

“I shall not enjoy it, but if it is necessary for the greater good…” Dumbledore shrugged, “Remember, Severus, it is not your job to think.  It is your job to do as I say, to be my eyes and ears on the enemy.  Do not concern yourself with the important work I am doing. It will be...less  _ painful _ for you.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Severus replied, staring pointedly at the floor and forcing himself to keep a neutral tone.

 

“Very well, then.  Get some rest, Severus.  The holiday break will be over sooner than you think,” Dumbledore waved his hand as he pulled the day’s Prophet from the other side of his desk and began to read.

 

“ _ Sir _ .” Severus turned abruptly and swept from the office as quickly as he could without looking as though he was running away from the terrifying man like a coward.

 

For, as he took the stairs two at a time, it was not with the exhilaration of seeing Hermione again, but the uncontrollable tremors in his arms and legs as he tried not to think about how utterly terrifying a master Albus Dumbledore was to serve.


	15. Otterly Adorable

****When classes resumed after the winter break, there was an additional member in Snape’s Potions classes.  Though he was as strict as ever when it came to classwork, Hermione the otter was a much-welcome comic relief, not to mention a rather helpful assistant.  Students would turn to see her whuffling with needed ingredients in her mouth if they ran out.  She pulled a second year Hufflepuff student away from a cauldron by the hem of his robes with a loud squealing growl moments before it exploded where his face had been.  Severus had been in rare form that morning as well.  He’d contained the blast so that it wouldn’t set off a chain reaction of explosions and prevented other student injuries.  Many of the students agreed that a detention scrubbing cauldrons was probably less of a punishment than the sheepish-looking student deserved, but in the end, no one was hurt, and that was what mattered.  In fact, class went well enough that there had been a few minutes before the end of class where Hermione had entertained the class at large by balancing things on her nose like a seal and then tossing them up into the air to catch in her rear legs.

 

Professor Snape just stood near the chalkboard with his arms crossed.  He didn’t look happy, not really.  But his eyes relaxed from their customary scowl and he seemed almost peaceful to those who looked.    


Of course, no one was looking at Snape, not when his familiar was performing various humorous and acrobatic antics on his desk.

 

To be fair, though, that was the way that Severus preferred things to be.  The fewer students who saw behind his scary mask of severity, the better.

  


By the time the weather had gone from snowy and freezing to rainy and cold, Hermione was well known to everyone at Hogwarts, even Madam Pince, who kept a small salmon cake for the little river otter as payment for helping her sort returned books.  Hermione would walk on her hind legs almost like a little fuzzy person and help move the books to their proper places, which was as helpful as it was adorable.

 

She’d brought a number of very interesting water plants to Professor Sprout, who’d opened up a new greenhouse simply to do some experiments on the properties of water-based magical and mundane plants.

 

Hermione was especially fond of visiting Hagrid, who always had a fresh fish for her to eat, which was much preferable to any of the rock-hard cakes he was fond of making otherwise. His large, warm hands were perfect for petting and she’d lay on his massive belly snuffling against his black beard as he sat at the fire and scratched her behind the ears gently. Her presence seemed to help Hagrid break his habit of bringing home dangerous creatures, as he was concerned that Hermione might get harmed by one of his monstrous “pets” due to the fact that “they don’ know their own strength.”

 

Hermione, too, knew that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on Hagrid, and even though Severus was not a big fan of visiting the groundskeeper’s shack due to Hagrid’s loud, booming voice, but there were a number of times where Hermione would fall asleep in front of the fire, and the surly Potions master never failed to find her there, often staying for a “spot o’ tea” as Hagrid called it, which gave them both more time to bond, well, as much as Severus could bond with someone like Rubeus Hagrid.

 

Argus Filch appreciated how Hermione would often assist himself and Mrs. Norris with finding students up to mischief. When there was no mischief to break up, Hermione would often play with Mrs. Norris as well, running and chasing one another through the halls of Hogwarts with a plethora of happy chirps and snuffling noises.

 

“It’s like Mrs. Norris is but a kitten again,” Filch confessed to Severus one Saturday afternoon as Hermione and Mrs. Norris played Chase The Sunbeams down one of the seldom-used hallways.

 

Severus nodded as Filch grinned, watching his familiar with proud, almost parental eyes. Though he knew the truth about Hermione, it did give him a special sort of pleasure to see her bringing so much joy to those around her, no matter what form she took.

 

When it came to Professor Flitwick, Hermione would be the first to fetch things that fell under the table during mealtimes.  Knowing of how frustrating his diminutive stature was, Hermione knew that one of the reasons he became so proficient in Charms was to be able to use magic in ways to help deal with his physical limits.  He custom-tailored his robes, and had to use charms to make his quarters and classroom accessible for himself as well as those who were of normal proportions.  Hermione was the first to pick up papers that fell to the floor and she spent more than one crowded afternoon snaking through the crowded halls ahead of Professor Flitwick so that he would not get trampled.

 

Professor McGonagall, though, was special.  Hermione still had many fond memories of her former head of house, and she’d often show up during Minerva’s office hours and keep her company.  Minerva, of course, would at first pretend to be put out, but Hermione persisted, giving her the cutest looks and would roll onto her back, exposing her belly like a puppy.  Like Hagrid, Hermione would often lie down at Minerva’s feet as she sat by the fire taking her tea and grading papers, and Severus would eventually have to come for her when she inevitably fell asleep.  This, of course, led to more than a few impassioned debates on quidditch teams and a surprising discovery on both Snape and McGonagall parts that they both shared a love of muggle French noir films.  

 

“I know a little independent cinema in the heart of London, but I’ve never had anyone to go with me,” Minerva said with a conspiratorial grin on one quiet Friday evening, “Perhaps we can plan to go together once the school year comes to a close.  We can flip a Galleon and see who gets to smuggle your familiar in under a bulky coat.”

 

Snape had smiled, then, and though it still looked pained and unpracticed, it had made Hermione’s heart leap with joy to see him finally making connections with the other professors as something more than simply the hated ex-Death Eater.

 

As though protesting Dumbledore’s negative influence on the one she loved most, Hermione would perch on Snape’s lap during staff meetings, which Albus had initially frowned upon, but the others had protested, saying that she was perfectly behaved and never drew any unwarranted attention to herself.  The only one who’d given her a look of pure jealousy, had been Professor Trelawney, who pronounced that her presence at Hogwarts was “an ill omen if ever there was one.”

 

Hermione was fairly certain that this was more due to the fact that Professor Trelawney seemed to look as though she wished that Severus was petting _her_ instead of his beloved familiar.  

 

She said as much that evening as she basked in the warmth of his arms in her human form again.  As jarring as it was to spend most of her days and evenings as an adventurous musckaloid, Hermione was beginning to get used to it.  A part of her was wondering if she attempted the animagus transformation now if it would simply allow her to become a river otter on her own, but she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to risk it.

 

“Trelawney is an odd duck,” Severus replied, kissing her down the length of her neck as she writhed with pleasure against him. “I’d sooner kiss Hagrid than her, to be honest.”

 

The mental image of Severus kissing Hagrid made Hermione break out into peals of laughter.

 

“I didn’t say I was going to do _either_ of those things!” Severus had blustered, growing flushed with embarrassment.

 

“I know, but...the mental image...it’s so...so….absurd!” Hermione gasped, trying to catch her breath.

 

Severus angled his eyebrow at her and grinned conspiratorially.

 

“Well, if you like to laugh so much, then I shall endeavor to... _assist_ you...further,” he said wickedly, tickling her bare belly until Hermione collapsed against him in hysterical peals of laughter.

 

“Stop, stop stop! I yield! _Gahhhh_ ! _Severus_!” Hermione cried, finally, collapsing onto her back with a relieved sigh as he withdrew his hands immediately.

 

“Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?” he purred, looking down at her with a bemused smirk.

 

Hermione felt the bottom fall out of her stomach at the way he looked at her, his dark eyes so still yet somehow also so intense that she felt like she was falling into them.

 

“Oh yes, _please_ ,” she whispered back, her heart quickening as he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing his way down to her lips. Then, he was kissing her deeply until she was left gasping.  With a satisfied smirk, he traveled lower to kiss her neck and then the slight rise of her collarbones under her skin as she tried not to hyperventilate at the pleasure he was giving her.

 

When he kissed her below her navel, she moaned audibly and he moved back to look at her in the eyes, his expression almost devilish.  It was so very different than the young, sad Severus she’d met in the Room of Requirement, or the cold, distant Severus that stood at the front of classes or the drawling, cynical Professor Snape who dutifully kept to his hated job even after he’d been forced to do all manner of terrible things in the name of redemption. This Severus, _her_ Severus, was still unsure of himself in many ways, but it was also so very obvious that he was also exceedingly proud of himself when he filled her with pleasure.

 

“More, please,” she whispered against his lips, as his eyes went half-lidded and he began to pant slightly along with her.

 

“Anything,” he gasped, his pupils blown wide as he gazed back at her.

 

“I want _you_ ,” she said, kissing him softly, “that is, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Hermione,” he moaned, stroking her cheek gently, “ _Please_ ...let me _show_ you how much I _do not mind_.”

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Severus was nearly late to his first class of the day, and there was an abject lack of river otter familiars in Potions until the afternoon.  He had to keep hiding yawns behind his sleeve, but there was something about his demeanor that made him look profoundly relaxed, even though he was still stern as he taught his lessons and snapped irritably at students for making mistakes.  There were a couple of students that he could have caught and given detention for minor infractions, but Severus found that he didn’t really care, not when he could keep replaying the night before over and over in his head.

 

Her name was on his lips, and he ached to say it, though he knew he could not, that it would not be proper to do so.  Every time he closed his eyes, he was looking down at her wide-eyed expression, feeling ghostly impressions of her loving caresses upon his skin, and his heart filled until he thought it might burst with his love for her.

 

Though he knew it should terrify him, there was nothing Severus Snape wanted to do more than give everything of himself to the one he loved.  And, as the end of the school year approached, Severus began to grow more and more desperate. If Hermione would have him, he would do anything to escape his servitude to Albus Dumbledore.

 

Anything at all.


	16. A Blessed Surprise and a Cursed Tiara

“And what are you doing here?” Charity Burbage peered over the side of her desk at the sleek river otter who was standing on her hind legs, making a gesture with one of her paws that looked uncannily like she was motioning for the Muggle Studies professor to follow.

 

Hermione squeaked and chirped sharply before backing up, still making the motion to follow with her front paw.

 

“You want me to come with you?” Professor Burbage asked with a smirk.

 

Hermione nodded and chirped happily.

 

“All right, then, you silly beast, I’ll humor you!” Charity placed a stone on her stack of as-yet ungraded papers and stood, her dark brown robes whispering softly against the floor.

 

A stocky witch with curly blonde hair, Charity Burbage had been one of the only professors who didn’t seem to care much about what Severus had done before he’d become a professor at Hogwarts.  A former Hufflepuff, she was more concerned with how people behaved in the here and now, and she rarely paid any mind to gossip about the past.  She was so vocal about this fact, that it was somewhat surprising that she hadn’t made more enemies, but then again, she applied the idea equally. In the end, it was often a welcome relief for the other professors, who never felt as though they were being judged while she was with them.  

 

Charity had a soft spot for Snape’s familiar, who always seemed to find her way down the end of the hall to her little office, which was right next to the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts kitchens and seemed to always be the first to fill with the scent of whatever delectable dish was in the process of being cooked.  House elves would often appear and beg her to try bites of various amazing things, and she never had the heart to turn them away.  This was decidedly not a good thing for her figure, which had always been stocky, but Charity wasn’t all that concerned.  She kept herself active and slept a normal eight to nine hours a day and figured that her health would sort itself out.  Beyond a small spare tire around her middle, it generally did. 

 

Charity had grown up in the countryside to muggle parents, but they’d grown up very poor, even though there was never a lack of love at home.  This meant that she was often clueless about most muggle inventions and modern conveniences, which is why she spent the summers in muggle London, trying her best to pick up on all of the culture that she could in order to improve her lectures. Her newest favorite thing was a device called a “VHS player,” which could play movies on the television.  Her very favorite film was a classic one- The Wizard of Oz. It always reminded her of her own first time visiting Diagon Alley.

 

“Where are we going, you silly little thing?” Charity laughed, as they passed down the hallways, which was set with large, friendly windows that let in loads of late-afternoon light.

 

Hermione merely squeaked in reply and continued to scurry ahead.

 

Charity wished that she had a broom with her.  Her short legs were not built for running, and though her short stature had made it nearly impossible to knock her off her broom when she’d been on the Hufflepuff quidditch team.  Still, she soldiered on, ignoring the aching in her calves.

 

“Where are we--- _ oh my stars _ !” she exclaimed as they came around the corner of the rolling hill out back of the kitchen entrance to the castle.

 

There, holding a banner that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHARITY! as wide as his arms would reach, was Rubeus Hagrid, who was grinning fit to burst. A number of students milled around with tables set up out in the golden light of the late Spring afternoon.  Each table had a full setting, a party horn, a smaller wizarding cracker and a conical party hat adorned in various colors and pattern.  As Charity covered her mouth in silent shock at the gorgeous spread around her, Hermione ran back, wearing a tiny, otter-sized party hat and handed a normal-sized hat covered in foil up to her with a whuffling noise of approval.

 

Severus stood under a tree, looking uncomfortable and disinterested, but Hagrid, who had finished hanging the banner between two nearby trees, appeared and ushered him over with his trashcan-sized hands.  Hermione ran to Severus immediately and wrapped herself around his leg, which seemed to ease his nerves and he wished Charity happy birthday with a tiny, tight smile.

 

“Me ‘n Sev’rus here planned the whole thing!” Hagrid boomed happily, nodding over at Professor Sinistra, who was filling cups with punch, “We also had some other help from the professors, though some had to finish somethin’ special an’ll be back soon. When we heard that yer birthday fell on Sunday, we knew we had ta do somethin’!”

 

Professor McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout showed up late with a massive wrapped present that appeared to be a joint venture, and Madam Hooch shot through the sky on her broom, sending out cloud words behind her in the shape of Charity’s name.  The house elves outdid themselves with her birthday cake and Charity found herself tearing up with gratitude as she thanked everyone for taking time to do such a special thing for her.

 

All in all, it was a magical day, and considering that they worked at a magical school, that was saying something.

 

Finally, to her utter surprise, Albus Dumbledore himself arrived, with a special gift of his own- a huge sack of her favorite Chocolate Peanut-Butter Poppers.

  
“I placed a Freshness Charm upon the bag,” he said conspiratorially, as he handed them over, “so that they will always taste like they were just made at the shop!  Now, what was that I heard about cake?”

 

Everyone was having such a smashing time at the party, which went on until it began to grow dark, that no one seemed to notice when Hermione and Severus disappeared into the lengthening shadows and slipped back into the castle.

  
  


“Are you certain this is the place?” Severus asked, watching Hermione pacing in front of the blank wall on the top floor where the Room of Requirement had appeared before. “I don’t know about you, but a freezing forest full of dementors is not exactly my first choice of locales.”

 

“I’m looking for a different door,” Hermione explained, her voice growing somewhat annoyed, “one that houses a room full of junk. Now, just let me  _ think _ so that we can get in!”

 

Severus looked stricken and hung his head.

 

“Severus...I...I’m sorry,” Hermione said, approaching him and touching his face softly until he looked up at her, “I am simply on edge because I don’t know how long we have until Dumbledore returns.  Until we have all of the pieces, I don’t feel comfortable sharing this with him.  He is a man with many ideals, and a limited sense of morality when it comes to throwing others under the bus.”

 

“Earlier...You told me that...that he made me…” Severus trailed off, looking profoundly ill.

 

“Yes,” Hermione replied sadly, “You were forced to kill him and no one knew until after your death. That is why this work is so important.  We must destroy the horcruxes and change what happens next, for everyone’s sakes, but especially yours.  You do not deserve to be consumed by isolation and an abject hatred of your lot in life.  You should not be forced to work at a job you despise under a man who uses you like an allen wrench.”

 

“Please...Hermione...I cannot bear it,” he said softly as she wrapped her arms around him more tightly.

 

“Neither can I,” she whispered back, “And that is why I will fight until my dying breath to ensure that it never comes to pass.”

 

With a final squeeze, Hermione strode purposefully over to the wall and got the door to the room of lost things to appear in moments.

 

“It should be...over here somewhere…” Hermione said, as they stepped into the massive room, which was filled from floor to ceiling with endless debris and junk.  

The room was not the same as it had been when Hermione had visited it before, but that made sense.  There were more than two decades of stuff that had not yet been added to it. She was still incredibly relieved when she found the Diadem, which still sat atop a mannequin with a rather absurd wig.

 

“Are you ready, Severus?” she asked, grabbing a snapped broomstick and knocking over the mannequin.

 

He nodded, pulling a giant, silvery bag from his robes and holding it open.  The Diadem nearly tumbled past the bag, but at the last moment, some of the strands of hair on the wig caught the corner of it, and it dangled comically in the air as the mannequin head and torso rocked back and forth, threatening to topple to the ground as well.  Severus pulled the bag up around the Diadem and cinched it shut as Hermione pulled the hair of the wig free from the top of the bag.

 

A strange noise, like a scream from far away, echoed in the room before it went still again and both of them looked at one another with wide eyes.

 

“Did I just hear…?” Severus trailed off, looking down at the bag as though it were about to grow a mouth full of shark’s teeth and bite off his hand.

 

Hermione nodded.

 

“Last time, we destroyed it by setting the entire place ablaze with fiendfyre,” she explained sheepishly, “well, to be fair, it wasn’t us, it was Crabbe who-”

 

“Senior or junior?” Severus replied, looking aghast, “I suppose it doesn’t exactly matter, though, as I don’t imagine that the Crabbe apple fell far from the tree.”

 

Hermione snorted with laughter despite herself.

 

“Whatever its true nature, the Mithril Silk will render it inert until we are ready. Well, then, I think it’s time that we do a bit of experimenting on our  _ special _ artifact, don’t you?” Severus said with a wicked smirk as he tucked the bag back into his robes, “Of course, there’s another sort of experimenting that I wouldn’t be averse to engaging in as well…”

 

Hermione shivered and pulled herself close to him, tracing her finger against his lips before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him gently.

 

“I think,” she said slyly, “that my answer is E: _ all of the above _ .”

 

When Severus and his faithful otter familiar left the Room of Requirement, they were pleasantly surprised not to run into anyone on their long journey back down to the dungeons.

 

And though they both knew that there would be many long hours of research ahead, the thought of spending it together made all the difference in the world.


	17. The Horcrux of the Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry for the huge break in posting, but I’ve been down for about a week with a horrible flu/fever from hell. It was so bad that I felt like my insides were full of fiendfyre. Not a pleasant experience and it made my brain turn into melted cheese for a while there. Anyway, here’s the next chapter, hot off the presses. I hope you like it!

 

The Diadem sat behind double-paned, meshed glass, as though it were simply some harmless item in a museum display.

 

Hermione glared at it.  Stupid thing.  The more that she thought about it, the items that Voldemort chose to make into horcruxes seemed more like the accessories of a muggle homecoming queen instead of a scary Dark Lord.  Still, she knew better than to underestimate it.  The locket had been a heavy burden to bear, and she sometimes remembered the nightmares she’d had while it had been around her neck, whispering horrible things to her.

 

Things, she had to admit, that she’d told herself more than a few times.

 

“He takes every vulnerability and makes it into a weapon,” Hermione whispered, jumping back slightly when the Diadem rattled at her indirect reference to Voldemort.

 

“Hermione,” Severus breathed, his arms encircling her suddenly from behind until he was holding her gently, not hard enough that she couldn’t slip away, but not too loosely either.  It was the sort of tentative gesture that Hermione had come to expect from him- passion and certainty of his own feelings but an underlying neurosis that she would feel the way he did.

 

She snuggled back into him and rubbed her cheek against his sleeve like a cat.  Perhaps being in animal form so much had begun to change how she showed affection, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.  She could feel his muscles tense against her willing touch and she turned in his arms, slipping her hands around him until she was hugging him back.

 

“I won’t let him hurt you,” she promised ardently, “Even if-”

 

“ _ No _ ,” he rumbled, more than spoke, and she could feel his voice echoing through his body like a shudder until she thought she might cry at the sheer protectiveness he conveyed. “I will  _ never _ allow you to come to harm.”

 

“We are a sorry lot, aren’t we?” Hermione sniffed into his chest, trying not let the tears come, “Trying to save each other with no thought to ourselves.”

 

He ruffled her hair and smirked sadly.

 

“I’ve had a lifetime of doing it already, so it comes naturally to me,” he said sadly, “I doubt I would have made it at all if I wasn’t so damn stubborn and I stupidly had this idea that Lily needed someone to make sure that Potter wasn’t going to hurt her just because he couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

 

Hermione started. “So...you two reconciled, then?” she asked cautiously.

 

He stiffened and she could feel him start to fidget, as though he wanted to break away from her and run.

 

“What’s wrong, Severus?” Hermione asked, loosening her grip and looking up at his wide-eyed look of terror.

 

“I...I guess now you’ll hate me for saying that,” he said, nervously folding his hands together.

 

“No, I was just surprised,” Hermione said soothingly, stroking him gently down his back as though he were an agitated cat.

 

He seemed to relax slightly at her touch, but he still looked at her warily.

 

“Are...you sure you want to hear about...her?” he asked quietly.

 

Hermione nodded.

 

“I’m not as petty and jealous as some people,” she said with a sniff, imagining that  _ some people _ probably included do-no-wrong Lily Evans.

 

“She...was protecting me, you know,” he said slowly, “I...should have listened to her, but it was much easier to fall in with the wrong crowd, especially when they had so many promises for a piss-poor half-blood like myself.”

 

“So, what, did she expect you to just  _ magically _ never make friends with anyone you had to live with for seven years, even if it was to survive?” Hermione asked, her voice growing exasperated.  She knew that when she was younger, she probably would have thought similarly, but it still seemed like such a small-minded approach to a more systemic problem.  If Hermione had learned anything from S.P.E.W. it was that one could not ask oppressed and put-upon individuals to change a long-standing unjust system themselves.

 

“I suppose...it  _ is _ a magical school, after all. I suppose she might have been under the mistaken impression that friends just popped out of closets regularly for every wizard and witch.  But no, that was simply because the damnable Marauders loved stuffing ME into them,” Severus lamented.

 

Hermione gave him a look until he finally shrugged.

 

“What can I say? I tend to quip when I’m feeling anxious,” he grumbled. “In any case, I helped her out, invisibly as possible, of course, until she finally fell for that...that  _ dunderhead _ .  Potter tried slipping her Amortentia once, so I simply switched his glass with hers with my wand under the Slytherin table, and he spent the entire day trying to snog his reflection.  Serves the git right.  There were at least fifty other near misses that I helped to foil. Like a fool, I even documented them, hoping to show them to her at some point in case she wished to bring charges to Magical Law Enforcement.  I didn’t have any other real friends, after all, and Lily told me that she didn’t want to see me again.  Even the grudging allies I made in Slytherin were never truly kind to me.  But Lily...she was the only one who cared about me when even I had begun to lose faith in myself.  So I decided that I would protect her and those important to her, even if I never got to see her smile at me again. I was not prepared to see her smile at Potter, not even a little.  It...it made me...it….”

 

His shoulders slumped and he looked at his hands brokenly.

 

“Shhhh, it’s fine, you don’t have to talk about it,” Hermione soothed him gently, stroking his cheek. “I may have  _ some _ idea of how you feel. I...had a crush on someone who didn’t seem to even know that I was  _ female _ . When I was asked to the Yule Ball by someone else, the bloke I really wanted to go with was so cruel to me that I spent the rest of the evening curled up on my bed crying.  I was  _ fourteen _ ! And then, a couple years later, he paraded this other girl in front of me, acting as though the whole thing was  _ my _ fault! It got to the point that I couldn’t spend time with my friends without it being terribly awkward, so I mostly spend my time in the library or making a fool of myself.”

 

She could feel him pull his arms back around her tightly even though her eyes were closed as she forced the embarrassing words out of her mouth.

 

“You must hate me, Severus,” she cried softly, “For trying to invalidate your suffering with my own experience...it’s…”

 

His hand was cradling her face, then, and she forced herself to open her eyes to look at him.  His expression was terrifyingly blank and unreadable. Without a word, he pulled her backwards through his laboratory and into his personal chambers before warding the doors behind him.

 

“Are you unhurt?” he asked gruffly, tilting her head and looking into her eyes, “Please. Let me check your mind, so that I may be certain”

 

Hermione looked puzzled but she nodded slowly, feeling him whispering into her head, checking her gently for...whatever it was that he was looking for.

 

“Thank goodness,” he said, finally, after staring into her eyes for what seemed like forever, “It didn’t have any other residual effects.”

 

“What...was that?” Hermione touched her fingers against the drying tears on her cheeks. “I...was that the horcrux? But how could it...from behind the glass…”

 

“I underestimated its effects.  Apparently this one is strong enough to affect the mental state of people who are near it without touching it.  Now that...it...is beginning to become aware of us, I don’t expect that it’s going to get any easier.” Severus looked back towards the thick, lead-plated door with a dark expression. “Hermione, tell me, when you had to wear the locket horcrux, did the Dark Lord seem to...learn anything about you?”

 

Hermione frowned as she thought back to those cold nights wearing the locket and she finally shook her head.

 

“It hurt us to wear it,” she replied quietly, forcing her hands into her pockets so the he wouldn’t see how they shook, “but it mostly seemed to hurt me by saying things that I already felt about myself, only more intense, if that makes any sense. We switched off wearing it because the effects only seemed to linger when it was actually being worn.”

 

“That was a very dangerous thing to do,” he replied, stroking her neck gently, as though trying to brush off a phantom locket, “but it seems that whatever piece of soul was embedded in that particular object was not as strong.”

 

“Perhaps we were better off using fiendfyre,” Hermione said sadly, remembering the inferno. “Perhaps saving the Diadem is far too much to ask.”

 

“It’s not that simple, though,” Severus replied. “After all, there are more than a couple out there, some that will be harder to find than others.”

 

“Even if we destroy all of them, it won’t do any good if Voldemort’s remaining bit of soul is crawling around in Bulgaria somewhere.” Hermione stared at her feet, feeling foolish for thinking that going back to this period in time would make it any easier for her to accomplish this task. 

 

“We must be certain that we have explored all of the avenues available to us to control or banish the bits of soul inside of these objects.  Simply destroying them seems a bit too Gryffindor for my tastes,” Severus replied, curling his lip slightly, “After all, even if an object is destroyed, residual magic can still remain.  It would be better to figure out a way to remove the soul pieces completely to be absolutely sure that the evil is contained.”

 

“Yeah, but...it would be easier to…” Hermione’s eyes widened as she came to a disturbing realization. “ _ HARRY _ !” she exclaimed.

 

Severus nearly jumped back in surprise, but stopped himself at the last moment. “Who?”

 

“Sorry!” Hermione replied, shaking her head, “He’s just a baby now, but he’s got one...a horcrux...it’s in his scar, you see?”

 

“As much of a dark wizard as I am purported to be,” Severus replied, “I would never stoop so low as to murder an infant. So, I suppose that my initial hypothesis is correct.  We must figure out a way to destroy the soul fragments without harming the vessels.”

 

“I had a book...I took it from Dumbledore’s office after he died...and it said that horcruxes could only be destroyed by completely breaking the vessel beyond repair,” Hermione said slowly, feeling terrible for even hinting at the fact that they might have no choice but to murder a small child.

 

Severus looked at her sympathetically for a moment and shook his head.

 

“This is one of the biggest problems with the wizarding world, Hermione, one that they really do not wish for you to know,” he said finally, “The truth is, once a wizard or witch finds out one way to do something, all research into it ceases.  No one bothers to look for better ways or more efficient methods to accomplish the same or better results. Any improvements often happen by accident.  Everything is then taught for generations and generations as the unquestionably  _ best _ way.  No one questions it, either. Which means, there may very well be a way to undo a horcrux.  The problem, then, is how we do it.”

 

Hermione’s eyes filled with excitement and she summoned her bag.

 

“Even though we’re looking for something new, it may help us to do some research on what is already known about horcruxes,” she mused, “and then perhaps we could formulate some ideas based off of what we know? Then...once it’s done, we can be free. Together.”

 

Severus nodded as an uncharacteristic grin spread across his face and he hugged her tightly, spinning her around, his cheeks growing pink as he seemed to realize what he was doing.

 

“I..I’m sorry,” he said, putting her down gently, “I hope that I didn’t hurt you in my exuberance.”

 

“Not at all, Severus,” Hermione said kissing him on the nose, laughing softly, “In fact, that was just what I needed.”

 

He kissed her on the forehead in reply, which made her wrinkle her nose and laugh happily. Their minds more at ease, they walked hand-in-hand towards his sitting room to recover from their ordeal.

 

The Diadem waited silently, a strange, cold energy emitting from it like a greenish mist.

 

_ Sssssssssooooooooonnnnnn _ it hissed in impotent rage.

  
  
  
  



	18. What a Soul is Not

**** There had been time for tea and some much-needed cuddling before Severus had finally pulled out a small stack of remaining papers to grade.  Hermione sat across from him on a black leather couch bent over a book and frowning every couple of minutes.

 

“What  _ is _ a soul?” Hermione asked, finally, looking up with exasperation. 

 

“Hermione, I am a potions master, not a philosophy professor,” Severus replied mildly, looking over the top of a piece of parchment.

 

“You  _ know _ what I mean, Severus!” Hermione replied, huffing ever so slightly as she saw his eyebrow go up in amusement.  He was  _ teasing _ her which simultaneously made her stomach break out in butterflies while also being ever so slightly infuriating. “This book goes on and on about ripping a soul apart, but never does a thing to explain what one’s soul is actually comprised of!”

 

She set the book down heavily, which was the furthest she’d ever dare come to  _ throwing _ a book, and crossed her arms.

 

“Well, perhaps you can start off with what a soul is  _ not _ ,” Severus suggested, his voice taking on a somewhat teacher-like tone.

 

Hermione snorted. “It’s not a tomato, that much is true. It’s not what you had for breakfast.  Or the giant squid.”

 

“Merlin forbid,” Severus replied, “it would never fit inside a human body.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She snickered until Severus finally flushed bright red.

 

“That is  _ not _ what I meant and you know it!” he stammered, dropping the essay he was holding and shaking his hands in the air as though attempting to banish the thought.

 

But, hours later, all Hermione would have to say was “giant squid,” or “tentacle” and she’d break out with a case of the giggles, which would lead to more blushing and hand-waving on his part.

 

In the end, before Severus practically dragged her off to bed, Hermione came up with two lists.

 

The first was a list of known horcruxes that existed before Voldemort’s return.  She was fairly certain that Nagini had come into play afterwards, much to her relief.  Which left the rest of her list:

 

Diadem (found)

Gaunt Ring (Gaunt House, buried)

Hufflepuff’s Cup (Lestrange Vault)

Locket (Grimmauld Place)

Tom Riddle’s Diary (Malfoy Manor)

Harry (Dursleys, Surrey)

Voldemort’s disgusting foetal slug form (Somewhere in Bulgaria, I think)

 

“What the hell is a... _ Dursleys _ ?” Severus asked, as he scanned the list, looking puzzled as he finished reading the list. He seemed to cough when he read the last line, and Hermione could tell that he’d just held back a bark of laughter.

 

“I thought it was an apt description for the...thing he was reduced to,” Hermione replied, smirking back. “And, to answer your earlier question, it’s  _ the _ Dursleys.  That’s the surname of Harry’s aunt, uncle and cousin.”

 

Severus snickered back until he heard the second half of Hermione’s explanation.  He went pale almost immediately and scowled with disgust.

 

“Am I correct when I assume that these are relatives of Lily's side of the family? As in... _ Petunia _ Evans...er...Dursley?” he asked, finally, his lips taking on a thin, pinched quality.

 

“Oh, have you met them, then?” Hermione asked. “I never have, not directly, but I've heard a number of horror stories. Did you know that they made Harry live under the stairs in a cupboard until he was almost thirteen?”

 

“I wouldn't be surprised if he's in the cupboard now,” Severus replied coldly. “Petunia always hated magic, probably because she couldn't do it, so she decided to hate it instead. Why Dumbledore would do such a thing is immeasurably cruel, even for a scheming old coot like himself.”

 

“They’re awful, abusive people, Severus. We  _ must _ rescue him!” Hermione said, suddenly, her face fierce with conviction. 

 

“We may not be able to do much,” Severus replied slowly, “but I think I know something that might help. We will have to wait until the summer holidays. However, if all goes well, it shall be an unforgettable day indeed.”

 

Hermione grinned evilly back at him, remembering Harry’s oversized clothing and pale, scrawny body.  How he’d been so willing to believe the best of those who treated him with kindness because it was obvious that no one had ever paid attention to him like that while he was growing up. She wouldn’t let him suffer that treatment again if she had anything to say about it.

 

“Come on, then,” Severus said, stretching and yawning wide, “Let’s head to bed.”

 

Hermione found herself yawning involuntarily as she stared at him, marveling how adorable he was when he finally allowed himself to relax, but she didn’t mind.  She’d yawn for hours if it gave her a chance to see him like this, his lips curving upward until he was almost smiling.  The fact that his eyes seemed to have depth in them that wasn’t terrifying or blank.  That his body wasn’t tense or full of nervous, spiteful energy.  

 

“And what might you be staring at?” Severus said, his eyebrow arched wickedly as he placed his hands on his hips.

 

Hermione blushed.  She knew she’d been caught.

 

She still didn’t care.  After all, she loved him more than she was embarrassed.

 

“You, of course,” she answered truthfully, grinning behind her hand at the shocked expression on his face and the embarrassed flush that rose on his cheeks moments later. “Now, if you don’t mind turning around so I can see your sexy arse, I’ll be able to die a happy woman.”

 

Severus sputtered loudly at this and looked at her uncertainly.

 

Hermione was still embarrassed, but she liked seeing him a bit flustered.  Closing the distance between them, she pulled him into a tight hug and pressed her cheek against his chest.

 

“It’s fine, Severus, if you think that the world isn’t ready for the sight of the back of you, I’ll wait,” she whispered, prompting more flustered sputtering.

 

“I do not wish to share my posterior with anyone other than you, thank you very much,” Severus grumped, finally, his arms drawing tightly around Hermione before intertwining his fingers with hers and pulling her gently back towards the bedroom. “Now, then, I really must insist that we go to bed, or there will be no time for you to admire...er...my  _ assets _ .”

 

“Did you just make a  _ bum pun _ ?” Hermione snorted with laughter, as he pulled her down onto the bed with him and began tickling her lightly in the places she liked best.

 

“I may or I may not have,” he replied, grinning as she began to thrash around wildly, “ _ butt _ I believe that in the  _ end _ , it’s all up to your interpretation.”

 

Hermione wasn’t sure what was making her more hysterical, the tickling or the terrible puns, but when Severus finally pressed his weight into her, the tickling and quipping long forgotten as his eyes burned with passion for her, his lips hot and searching upon her own, she found that in the end, it didn’t matter either way.

 

_ Together. With Severus. Forever. _

 

The thought hummed contentedly in her veins long after their bodies were sated and growing still with sleep.

 

Voldemort and his shattered soul would simply have to wait.


	19. A Disgruntled Bee’s Buzz

 

Albus couldn’t sleep.  Something was bothering him in the back of his mind and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.  It rumbled and bumbled like something small stuck in a jar beating its wings against the glass.  That new familiar that Severus had found...it seemed...wrong somehow, as though it wasn’t supposed to happen.  From the change in the professor’s disposition, Albus knew that this might get in the way of his control over the man.  There were, after all, certain jobs that he’d hoped to make Severus useful for beyond his servitude to destroy Voldemort, which was a mistake that Albus deeply regretted.  

 

He stared at his wand, rolling it up and down the length of his desk from hand to hand.  The Elder Wand.  By a stroke of luck, he’d gotten the cape from James before death had found him.  It had been so easy.  He just had to appeal to Lily’s sense of irritation at James sneaking out under the Cloak.  It had been much easier to get it from her because she didn’t know the story of the Hallows, being muggleborn.  Most wizarding folks thought it was a myth, though, so Albus simply chalked it up to his skills as a manipulative genius.

 

He hadn’t realized that there was a curse on the Hallows.  Each one had a wonderful power to it, but an equally terrible drawback.  

 

The Wand, he knew, caused others to desire it.  This was why he spent most of his time simply reinforcing the fact that the reason they were jealous was due to his great magical abilities, not his wand.  In fact, he’d placed a very strong Notice Me Not Charm upon it.  It was in this way that he helped channel the jealousy of others into something useful for himself.  He was able to get onto everyone’s committees and into the Wizengamot itself.  He had a finger in every pie in the Wizarding World, it seemed.  Those who coveted his presence could not get enough of him.  

 

From his experience, the Cloak allowed calamity to bypass those it protected.  As long as it was in the hands of someone within the bloodline of the original owner, these protections would continue.  However, once James had given his cape to Albus, James’ father and mother had died soon after of a very virulent strain of dragon pox.  Albus was fairly certain that the mother had only been collateral damage, but was unable to confirm, as the Potters had to be immediately immolated to prevent the spread of the disease.  So, Albus concluded, the protective effects of the Cloak would come back tenfold upon the owner if they gave it away to someone outside of the family.  It was good, then, that James Potter was so arrogant and disconnected from his heritage that he wouldn’t think twice before handing such a precious, one-of-a-kind family heirloom over to his beloved headmaster.  

 

Albus chuckled darkly.  Oh, but he’d helped to make James that way.  After seven years of looking the other way while he acted like a right git, James had become utterly loyal to Albus Dumbledore.  He knew that the Headmaster only had the  _ best _ intentions.  And it  _ had _ only taken a decade to get the Cloak from James Potter with relatively little fanfare.  

 

He still felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t told James that he knew that Peter had betrayed them.  After all, a prophecy had been made, and Albus knew that in order for it to come to pass, Voldemort would have to get access to the child anyway.  He was glad that he didn’t have to do much in that regard.  He hadn’t expected Sirius Black coming to take the fall, but in the end, there’d been a scapegoat to send to Azkaban and that was all that mattered.

 

Dumbledore stroked his beard idly and thought about how far he’d come.  He simply had to destroy Tom’s pathetic imitations of horcruxes and then make his own.  But in order to destroy them for good, he’d need to find all of the pieces, and it was becoming harder and harder to get pensieve memories from people without causing trouble for himself.  Already there were whispers in the Wizengamot about his propensity to invite guests for drinks only for them to wake up the next morning with fuzzy spots in their memories.  He was always so careful, but memory magic had never been his forte, and there were already some who were beginning to suspect that it wasn’t Ogden’s best that was causing the memory loss.

 

Oh well, he could worry about that later.  The horcruxes weren’t his biggest worry, after all, they couldn’t be activated in the way that Tom had originally hoped to use them.  Once again, he was all scheme and no vision. A disappointment, really.

 

Albus Dumbledore had a vision and he knew the benefits of using others to ensure his own safety.  Tom, on the other hand, had forgotten his place, had forgotten that he was just a little pawn on Dumbledore’s chessboard, futilely trying to transform himself into the Queen.  Albus knew what to do with pawns that had outlived their usefulness, and yet, he did have to admit that Tom had given him a run for his money.

 

In the end, though, Albus won.  He  _ always _ won.  It was his trademark, after all.

 

There had been mistakes, most certainly.  There had been setbacks as well. There had been so many things he hadn’t realized, that had been learned through trial and error and the suffering of others. But now that he had two of the three Hallows, he was close to his goal.  Once he had all three, he could set things right.

 

The only problem, then, was the Stone.

 

During the summer, he would travel to the Gaunt house and look for it.  Tom had been stupid enough not to obliviate that man from the Ministry who’d seen the Gaunt ring.  

 

The stone, rather, the Stone on the ring was very peculiar...very peculiar  _ indeed _ .

 

Albus smiled and allowed himself have two lemon drops at once.  He rolled them together in his mouth and smiled happily at the clicking noise they made against one another.

 

Oh yes, soon he would be able to set his plan into motion, and before anyone knew what he was doing, it would be over.

 

“For the greater good, of course,” he mumbled to Fawkes, who gave him a squinty, suspicious look.

 

With that, he hobbled off to bed to dream the peaceful sort of dreams that all men who think they’re doing the right thing tend to have.


	20. Echoes of Evil

 

_ Hermione.  Come to me. _

 

Opening her eyes, Hermione looked around suspiciously.  What was she doing in the Department of Mysteries?  The prophecy room looked just as it had before they’d smashed all of them.  She was walking slowly down a dark aisle alone, the tip of her wand glowing brightly even though the light didn’t travel very far. She seemed to be walking a very long time, even longer than she thought possible, but time seemed to move differently in the darkness, her footsteps echoing off of the stone floor like a slow, macabre drumbeat.

 

_ Hermioneeeeee. _

 

The voice was like dry leaves beating against the window of her bedroom window.  It was familiar, in the way that a random shiver up the back of one’s spine was familiar, even if the source was hard to place.

 

Hermione turned and looked behind her, but there was nothing there.

 

She turned back and took a step, and then turned around again, pointing her wand out as far as her arm could reach.

 

There had been nothing there…. 

 

But now...there  _ was _ .

 

A black door stood before her, a small ray of blue light pouring from a crack on one side.  Hermione touched the iron ring that served as the door handle and flinched.

 

It was as though a small lightning bolt had pierced her fingers.  She hurriedly shook her hand and pointed her wand at the door instead.

 

“Alohomora,” she whispered, readying herself to cast a defensive spell.

 

“Come now. Don’t be like that,” said a strangely familiar voice.  Hermione could not see who was speaking due to the bright blue light inside the room ahead, but she could see an outline of a figure sitting behind what seemed to be a desk.

 

“Who are you?” she replied suspiciously. “Have we met before?”

 

“Take a seat, Hermione,” the voice said kindly, “I shall like so much to sit with you awhile.”

 

“Could you turn down the light? I’m getting a headache,” Hermione replied, shielding her eyes.

 

“But of course,” the voice said, snapping once, which seemed to dim the lights considerably, “Now, then, where were we?”

 

Hermione was struck by how...normal..the young man sitting behind the desk looked to her.  Well, except for the tiara on his head.

 

“ _ Diadem _ , Hermione,” he said, smiling indulgently as he tapped it once, “It’s called a diadem.”

 

“Then…” Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked at the young man, who couldn’t have been much older than she was, his dark hair and sharp clothing reminding her of something even though she still couldn’t put her finger on it.

 

“I... _ fine _ , diadem, then,” Hermione said with a small sigh, “That still doesn’t explain how you know my name, and have a penchant for reading my mind, apparently.”

 

“Call me Tom,” he said, smiling at her in a disarming fashion. 

 

Hermione still couldn’t say why his smile unnerved her, but she hung back in the doorway, gripping her wand more tightly.

 

“You’re dreaming, Hermione,” Tom said, “and the funny thing about dreams is that they are easy to  _ manipulate _ , wouldn’t you say?”

 

He crooked his finger and Hermione found herself sitting down in a chair that had materialized behind her.  Tom twisted his finger in a half circle and pointed at the ceiling and the chair slid around the desk until it was uncomfortably close to him.

 

“I’m not sure what you-” She went silent as he placed one finger over her lips.

 

“You’re a smart girl.  You are already putting the pieces together,” he said, his voice somewhat patronizing, “Which brings me to my little offer.  I  _ need _ you, you see.”

 

“Tom….wait….I know a Tom...but… _ no _ ...how is that possible?” Hermione gasped, trying to stand and push herself away from him.

 

“Just...stay there,” Tom replied, his grin widening until it looked impossible on his face.

 

Hermione felt her knees buckle and she sat hard on the chair, her eyes growing wide as she realized that her wand had disappeared.

 

“Oh, are you looking for this?” Tom said, holding up her wand. “Let’s just keep this for safety reasons, yes? Yes...I think that’s best.”

 

He pressed her wand between his hands and it seemed to flatten until he clapped them together and then showed his palms to her.

 

“Now you see it, now you don’t!” He laughed, but it was tinged by a creepy undertone that Hermione didn’t like.

 

“What do you want from me,  _ Voldemort _ ?” Hermione said icily, crossing her arms.

 

“Oh, now, don’t be like that,” Tom sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, steepling his fingers on his chest.  “I am actually glad that I was the first one of me that you encountered... _in_ _this timeline_? Interesting. In any case, I’m not the same as the Voldemort that you know. A snakelike face? How brutal.”

 

He stroked his face, seeming to be genuinely distressed.

 

“You’re still being incredibly vague,” Hermione retorted. “What do you mean that you’re the first one of you that I’ve encountered? And why do you appear to be significantly less murderous than your diary or your locket or the horrid thing that pretended to be a man?”

 

“Hah!” Tom exclaimed, standing abruptly, “That’s because we are not all the same- we are facets.  What I didn’t realize when I was whole is that when you split your soul, it takes out the part of your personality that is strongest at the time you do it. I’ve had a long time to think inside of this godforsaken artifact.  Luckily for me, it enhances one’s thinking power exponentially, which is why I’ve come to the conclusion that the entire splitting souls thing is ridiculous.  No. I need to escape this stupid prison and take my rightful place.”   
  


“And where, exactly, is that?” Hermione asked, crossing her arms with disbelief at his arrogance.

 

“I wish to teach Defense,” Tom replied, bowing with a flourish. “It is, after all, only fitting.”

 

“Are you mental?” Hermione said with a snort of laughter, “ _ You _ were the one who jinxed the position! You’d be out after a year!”

 

“Nonsense!” Tom said with an infuriating smirk, “I merely jinxed it for anyone other than  _ me _ . But I digress.”

 

“Why do you think that I would ever help you?” Hermione retorted, “I would rather die than be directly participate in your resurrection!”

 

Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head sadly.  “Don’t be so dramatic.  I’m not the part of my soul that is responsible for all of that distasteful  _ murdering _ .  To prove it, I’ll give you two important pieces of information.  First, I’ll teach you how to remove pieces of my soul from the various items that they reside within, though I only know of the location of a few of the items. Then, I’ll teach you how to use each item to the peak of its ability.  You could also sell them and make yourself very rich. I merely ask for two things in return.  First, my own body, to do as I like, and secondly, I want to work as the Defense professor at Hogwarts.”

 

Hermione shrank back further in her chair.

 

“You’re not taking my body!” she exclaimed, her face twisted into an expression of disgust.

 

“Once again, you’re putting words in my mouth,” Tom said tersely, “I simply need an empty shell.  A preferably  _ male _ shell, thank you very much. For example, when a dementor Kisses someone, they suck out the soul completely.  Obviously, the body is still left technically alive, but there’s nothing inside. Certain victims of extended torture can also fit the bill. I am nothing but flexible as long as the body is relatively young and fit.  It’s not as though its previous owner will miss it.”

 

Hermione wanted to gag with revulsion.  Even though this version of Tom seemed far less willing to simply kill everything in sight, he was awfully cavalier about the idea of simply taking someone else’s body.

 

“It is a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. I do so love leaving people speechless,” Tom said, flashing his smile, which looked more hollow and fake than ever before. “So, then, what do you say?   
  


“I’d say-” Hermione started, looking at him oddly.

 

“Yes?” Tom leaned in, looking more expectant.

 

“Your...ear is disappearing!” Hermione exclaimed, feeling like an idiot for pointing at it when she knew that Tom would be unable to see his own ear disappearing into thin air.

  
It was true.  It was as though a whirlpool had started with Tom’s left ear, and his face was slowly but surely contorting in an unnatural manner. More quickly than it seemed possible, he swirled into distinctly inhuman shape as though he were being flushed down a toilet. 

 

Still, the entire time, he swore and threatened and cajoled, even though Hermione could no longer discern where his mouth was.  The chairs and desk disappeared and the door broke apart into smoke.  With a final scream of impotent anger, Tom disappeared altogether, leaving Hermione in the dark.

 

“Hermione! Hermione! Come back to me! Hermione! Say something!  _ Anything _ !”

 

Hermione felt as though she were being called from far away.  She blinked until she realized that somehow, even though her eyes were open, they were actually still closed.  It was a thoroughly odd sensation.

 

“Hermione, please!  You must come back!  Open your eyes!”

 

The voice was familiar and insistant, but Hermione felt a sluggish reluctance to do what it said.

 

“Hermione, it’s  _ me _ , Severus!”

 

His voice was starting to grow husky with grief and pain.  The moment she heard his name, she could feel her heart start to race.

 

‘That’s right.  He promised he’d protect me, and yet here I am getting into trouble again.’  Hermione felt her cheeks burning with shame, even though she couldn’t remember quite how she’d gotten herself into this specific situation to begin with.

 

She blinked more rapidly, feeling a second set, her  _ real _ set of eyes struggling to open.

 

“ _ Good _ !  _ Good _ ! Keep fighting it!”  She could feel his hand stroking her face, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks as he held her head gently in what felt like his lap.  He was so warm.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile inside.

 

Finally, after what felt like a million years, she finally opened her eyes just a bit, squinting at the bright light in the room around her, and felt her lips turn upward in a real smile.

 

“ _ Severus _ ,” she whispered, feeling the weight of her body as though it had increased a hundred times.

 

He pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

 

“I was so worried!” he said, his voice sounding nearly hysterical, “I woke up and you were gone, and when I found you, you’d somehow sleepwalked right into the warded lab without a wand and were working on breaking through the plexiglass barrier! There was a mist hovering in the air above the Diadem, so I did what I normally do when any kind of  gas escapes into my Potions classroom, and it sucked everything inside, which seemed to snap you out of your trance.”

 

He held up a phial with a yellow stopper in it.  Inside, angry tiny faces formed out of the mist and growled from the other side of the glass, but the piece of Voldemort's soul didn’t feel nearly as potent or strong as when it had been tethered to the Diadem.

 

Hermione looked down at the Diadem and gasped.

 

Its stones had gone from a cloudy dark greyish-blue to a rich aquamarine that reminded her of a tropical ocean.  

 

“I can’t say much about it yet, but it certainly seems that the piece of soul can be drawn out of the item as long as someone makes it vulnerable enough,” Severus said with a frown, “but I cannot, in good conscience, suggest that you do something that dangerous ever again!”

 

He wrapped his arms around her even more tightly and Hermione found herself grunting slightly at the pressure of him against her.  He loosened his grip and stroked her hair with one hand, his eyes wide and fearful as he looked into her eyes.

 

“I’m safe now, Severus,” Hermione replied, stroking his face gently. “Thanks to you.”

 

“I swore to protect you always, Hermione,” he said gruffly, “It was not an idle promise.”

 

“It makes sense that magical objects would enhance the bit of his soul to manifest more strongly,” Hermione mused, “but that means that if we do go on a hunt of our own during the break, we will need to designate someone to draw it out of the objects.  We’ll also probably have to break a man out of Azkaban and sneak into Malfoy Manor.”

 

“Oh? Well, if that’s  _ all _ !” Severus chuckled darkly, his voice sarcastically flippant. “First thing’s first, though.  I am placing this little miscreant in a place where he will be unable to cause harm.”

 

With that, Severus pulled his wand and summoned the mithril bag, wrapping the material around the phial five or six times before tying it with a cord.

 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the horrible feeling of Voldemort’s slimy soul seemed to vanish abruptly.

 

“I know that we were trying to contain the Diadem in the lab for study, but I think it will be for the best if we always store horcruxes in mithril bags and then lock them in my lead-lined safe,” Severus said, pulling back a portrait and unlocking the black safe that was hidden there.

 

Hermione nodded. “After all, we can never be too careful.”

 

“Agreed,” he said with a smirk as he carefully placed the bag inside and then slammed the door to the safe, twisting the combination wheel until it clicked. “Now, then, shall I escort you to your bed?”

 

Hermione took his offered hand with a grin.

 

“That sound heavenly, actually,” she replied. “Especially if you’re there as well.”

 

“Naturally,” Severus said, kissing her forehead softly, “It’s far more fun that way.”

 

“Agreed,” Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose with happiness as he led her back to his room.  

 

For even though her body was exhausted beyond belief from her ordeal with Diadem Voldemort, Hermione knew that there was no place she would rather be than in the arms of the one she loved.


	21. Before the Hunt

 

The rest of the school year passed by at an alarming speed. Hermione had to be scolded a couple of times for nipping at students who tried to cheat during semifinal exams, but there were virtually zero attempts during the finals themselves. Severus noticed this was an abnormality with a rather smug smirk when he was sitting at the Head Table at the final feast, listening to the other professors grumble and complain about the number of shiftless cheaters who had been given detentions and were forced to retake the test by themselves with the knowledge that they'd only get partial credit and a mark would be placed in their permanent record. 

 

“How did you escape Scott-free?” Minerva wanted to know. She'd only had a handful of cheaters compared to the others, but it was obvious that she was impressed. 

 

“Interesting choice of words, Minerva. I had help,” Severus said with an amused chuckle as he stroked Hermione's head.

 

Hermione couldn't speak in otter form, but she still understood that he was praising her. She squeaked happily and rolled on her back, demanding belly rubs for payment. 

 

“Perhaps I should get an otter,” Minerva muttered to herself.

 

“Or, if you'd like, perhaps Hermione will come and nip at your students until they behave if I ask her nicely,” Severus mused, taking a sip of pumpkin juice and finding Minerva’s shocked expression intensely amusing. 

 

She narrowed her eyes, as though trying to decide whether or not he was joking. 

 

“Hmph. It might make up just a little for having lost the House Cup to you this year,” Minerva scoffed. 

 

“Weren't you the one taking fifty points each for those girls who created a love potion epidemic and brought half your House to blows over who could date them?” Severus snorted loudly, “It's not exactly hard to win when my students know that my eyes are everywhere and that otter teeth are painfully sharp. They behave because I have a well known habit of nipping shenanigans in the bud.   _ Painfully _ .”

 

Minerva knocked her head back, swallowing her juice in one angry gulp. 

 

“Need something stronger,” she grumbled, her normally proper dialect slipping. “Dern kids are goin’ ta be the death of me.”

 

“What's wrong, Minerva?” Professor Sprout had appeared at her arm with a concerned look in her eyes. 

 

“ _ Oh Pomona _ !” Minerva cried, throwing her arms around the surprised Herbology professor, “I do not know how I shall survive a year without that big, shiny cup in my office!  Come by my quarters after the train leaves and I shall share a tall glass of fire whiskey with you in solidarity!”

 

Pomona first looked bewildered and then shared a knowing look with Severus over Minerva’s shoulder as the other professors stared and some of the students began to point and chatter amongst themselves. 

 

Severus smirked back. He knew, from the various evening visits from the other professors, that they'd been hoping he'd win and throw off Gryffindor’s infuriating ten year House Cup winning streak. 

 

Even though he’d miss gardening with Professor Sprout and playing cribbage with Flitwick (who was utterly convinced that the muggle game was the most clever thing he'd learned in recent memory), or spending evenings with Professor Burbage talking about working-class muggle life and the different types of poverty that one could endure, he was equal parts excited and wary about his journey ahead. Excited, because this was the first time he truly felt like he would be making a difference and righting a wrong.  He would not be alone.  Hermione would be by his side.  Wary, though, because if the Diadem Horcrux was any indication, they could very well lose their lives trying to destroy the remaining pieces of Voldemort’s soul.  He also knew that if Dumbledore ever got a whiff of the truth, Severus was unsure what terrible thing would happen.

  
He simply knew it would be worse than anything he could imagine.

 

Professor Burbage stood and excused herself early and his thoughts turned to their friendship, which had surprised him, though it wasn’t hard to see Hermione’s hand in it, considering how many times he found her curled up in the late-afternoon sun in Burbage’s office.  Severus knew that she had to meet her parents up north by the time it got fully dark, which required taking an earlier train from London. Though he’d grown closer with the other Heads of House, Professor Burbage was the only member of the staff that he considered a good friend. 

 

She was like an older sister who he could talk about some of the things that he felt he couldn't bring up with the others, who mostly grew up in Wizarding households. Charity had grown up in a very puritanical household in the country, so she knew the pain of living so simply and being forced to do hard labor at a young age. Luckily, though, her parent's working farm supplied them with everything they needed to live comfortably, though their means were meager, and Charity did not have any idea of the dangers of alcoholism, thanks to her parents’ teetotaler attitude. She went pale when she heard some of the stories Severus told about his father, but she never offered judgment. 

 

“It seems strange, but I still loved my father, even though I hated that side of him,” Severus confessed one evening over tea, feeling grateful as Hermione snuggling firmly against his chest with a sympathetic squeak. “It was like another man, no...more like a demon...simply took him over. He never remembered in the morning, but we could see that he had some idea from the bruises or the welts and it was obvious he was so ashamed that he couldn't look us in the eye for days after.  Still didn't stop him from boozing it up the next time.”

 

It was soundly agreed that Wizarding households were at least shielded against the worst effects of being poor, which made it truly hard for most to understand that even a middle class muggle lifestyle was far more subject to the cruel whims of the market than the power that ran through a wizard's veins. 

 

Severus looked out at his students and the Great Hall at large, wondering if the prejudices could be destroyed by destroying the soul pieces for good, or if the problem was not truly Voldemort but the ease with which people seemed willing to follow anyone with a charismatic way of speaking and a promise to reward an arbitrary group of people by harming another group and making them the scapegoat. 

 

In fact, as his eyes darted over the four hourglasses at the back of the room, he realized that that everything he knew about life was based on trying to avoid conflict that was thrust upon him. No matter how small he made himself, the random circumstances of his birth made him a target. It was only his abilities that made others show him favor. The moment he stopped being useful, they were content to throw him on the rubbish heap. The only thing that he was simultaneously most proud and ashamed of was that even at his lowest, he could never quite bring himself to take his own life.

 

Severus was a survivor, and there was something that rejected the thought of ever giving in easily, regardless of the consequences. 

 

His parents had died because of him, but it had taken him far too long to see the truth of it. The others said it was his father's fault, but he knew that his father never drove erratically while sober. 

 

And the muggle autopsy had shown no sign of alcohol in his father's body. 

 

He could see how the other Death Eaters looked at him. Like he was a lapdog with a chemistry set. He was isolated and used for what he was good for and nothing else. 

 

Why had it taken overhearing that godforsaken prophecy and learning that the Dark Lord was willing to kill as many infants as it took based on some half baked seer’s word? 

 

It was that same part of him, the one that forced him to fight to survive, no matter what terrible fresh hell he found himself in. 

 

Glancing at Dumbledore, he couldn't help but remember that fateful meeting when he finally realized that if he stayed where he was, it was only a matter of time until Voldemort came up with a reason to kill him, no matter how well he obeyed. 

 

He let Dumbledore think it was about Lily, accepted whatever abuse the old man had in mind for him, and never questioned it. 

 

It was, afterwards, nowhere nearly as bad as the neglect and abuse he grew up with or the pain of Voldemort's wrath. And it wasn't nearly as painful as the shame of not having come sooner. 

 

Severus hated it. 

 

As much as he resented the scheming old man, he knew that he could never be the sort who could change the world for the better.

 

He was a survivor but he had no experience with the business of thriving. 

 

Hermione nipped his finger with a distressed squeak and he sucked in a sharp inhalation of breath at the pain of it as it brought him back to himself. There were hardly any students left in the Great Hall and most of the other professors had left the table. 

 

He was absentmindedly pushing an egg yolk around on his plate. Hermione gave him a hungry look and he shrugged to let her know that she could have it. 

 

She gulped it down, her eyes half closed with a sign of contentment. 

 

“Come on, then, Hermione,” Severus said, standing and stretching his arms with a wide yawn, “Adventure awaits.”

 

Hermione squeaked excitedly, and, for the first time, Severus didn't have to know the words she was saying to know her thoughts exactly. 

 

His lips turned up slightly at the corners of his mouth and he picked her up gently. He draped her carefully around his shoulders like a living otter stole before striding briskly towards the gates of Hogwarts, Hermione squeaking merrily all the way until they both vanished with a resounding crack. 


	22. It Has a Ring to It

The Gaunt house was barely a skeleton of a shack standing shakily on its foundation. Birds roosted on the ceiling beams and the roof was more sky than shingle.  Hermione accidentally stepped on a rotten floorboard and Severus had to pull her back to keep her from twisting her ankle. They were halfway through the back room before Hermione began to feel cold and clammy.

 

“I think it can sense me,” she whispered, a shiver running through her body involuntarily.

 

Severus threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand gently.

 

“I am here,” he said, pulling the mithril bag from his jacket.

 

“It feels like it’s coming from…” Hermione gulped, dropping his hand and grabbing onto her belly with one hand as she doubled over with pain.  With great effort, she raised her finger and pointed. “Under...the floorboards…” 

 

Severus darted towards the space she’d indicated, his hand in the mythril bag like a dog-walker preparing to pick up excrement.

 

Slicing away the floorboards was easy enough, and it didn’t take long for Severus to find the dirt-encrusted ring.  Touching it only with the bag’s material, he hastily turned it inside-out and tied the top as a strange keening noise began to escape the ring like a banshee’s shriek.

 

Hermione was at his side, suddenly.

 

“Someone’s here!” She turned her head violently as the floor in the entranceway groaned loudly with the weight of an unknown intruder.

 

Severus quickly tucked the bag into his jacket pocket and grabbed Hermione tightly, pulling his wand.  The footfalls were coming quickly now, without any discretion or caution.  Hermione’s heart hammered in her chest as a voice howled in pain, the sound of bowing wood echoing through the house as another rotted floorboard collapsed under the intruder’s weight.  

 

And then they were twisting into nothingness with a sound like a gunshot, their bodies singing with the relief of having escaped.

* * *

 

Albus Dumbledore was in a foul mood. Not only had he started out later than he’d intended to pick up the Gaunt ring, but he’d found himself foiled at the last moment.  Someone...a woman?  A boy? They’d spoken softly enough that he couldn’t be sure.  By the time he’d pulled his bleeding leg out of the hole in the floor that he’d stepped through, the person was gone.  There was a scent in the air that seemed somehow familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.  Of course, if to make matters worse, he stepped through another board up to his waist, getting both feet trapped in the muck in the foundation. While he was struggling to escape, a large black bird had unceremoniously shat upon his head while croaking loudly as though it was the most hilarious thing in the world.  

 

The Dittany had fixed his various scrapes and abrasions and a nice, hot scrub in the Headmaster’s bath had taken off all traces of bird dung, but Albus Dumbledore’s pride was mortally wounded and he found himself biting down on his sherbert lemons until they shattered in his mouth uncomfortably.  

 

Could it be that someone knew about the horcruxes?  Albus was only aware of them because he’d realized that Tom was after the Hallows to use as his remaining horcruxes, but he’d never told anyone about it. He thought desperately to himself about what he might do.  It disturbed him that it was rather likely that the horcruxes were strewn about the world, and he had very little idea about where he would need to go next.  The horcruxes honestly didn’t worry him nearly as much as the thought that someone knew about them.

 

Albus did not like not knowing things.  The less he knew, the less he could control the situation, and that made him very nervous indeed.

 

Of course, it was also possible that someone had come across the Gaunt ring on accident, but Albus couldn’t bring himself to believe in the coincidence, especially when he knew he’d distinctly heard the sound of Apparition.  

 

He let out an angry shout out of nowhere, startling Fawkes, who gave him the stink-eye.  

 

“Sorry, old friend...I...” Dumbledore started sadly, his expression growing pensive as his eye was drawn to the Hogwarts seal that hung over the fireplace across from him.  It was then that he remembered something Tom had told him one during his interview for Transfiguration in his seventh year...something that he’d passed off as innocuous at the time, but now that he knew of the horcruxes…

 

Tom had been researching the four magical items left behind the Founders.  He’d asked something about being able to duplicate or create a replica of the Sword of Gryffindor.  He had asked Albus Dumbledore if he could borrow the sword to test out his theory for his final paper.

 

Dumbledore had thought the request odd, especially since Tom was very much a Slytherin and had never shown much interest in Transfiguration before, but he’d told the boy he’d consider it. But then it had slipped his mind due to how busy things got at the end of the school year, and it had never really been resolved. Now, though, the thought set his mind whizzing off in directions that he’d never before considered.

 

“If he wanted the Sword, then it’s quite possible that he had access to the other heirlooms of the Founders at one point of another,” Albus murmured to himself, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “and where else would Voldemort put items of great worth than the most secure place to store items of great worth?”

 

Fawkes let out a cry that sounded like a question.

 

“Simple, Fawkes,” Dumbledore replied, opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out a long roll of parchment, “At least some must be hidden at Gringotts.  And, luckily for me, the goblins frown seriously on stolen artifacts finding their ways into a vault.  Especially when they are items that the Headmaster of Hogwarts wants.  We have five half-goblin children at Hogwarts as part of a pilot program to integrate at Hogwarts.  A number of their parents work at the bank, and I am very certain that they would not appreciate having their privileges rescinded. Yes...interesting...”

 

Dumbledore muttered under his breath as he wrote, a smile spreading across his face as his plan began to come into focus.

 

The ring was forgotten for the time being.  If someone had it, they were in for a nasty surprise, and Albus could simply swoop in during the aftermath. 

 

He smiled wider still. Oh yes, the horcruxes and the last remaining Hallows would be  _ his _ .


	23. The Otter and the Dragon

“Goddamn House Elves and their goddamn sacred holidays!” Swore Lucius Malfoy, as he strode angrily down the hallway towards the front door.

 

A  _ Malfoy _ forced to answer his  _ own _ door?  It was not done! It was simply barbaric, as far as Lucius was concerned.  And yet, he continued onward, knowing it was even more uncouth to ignore a knock at one’s door.

 

A happy gurgle escaped from the toddler he was carrying as he bounced happily against Lucius’ hip bone in a most uncomfortable manner. 

 

It was adding injury to insult. 

 

_ Literally _ .  

 

Of  _ course _ Narcissa  _ had _ to go to that ladies-only luncheon that her mother had been preparing for over a month. Leaving him, the impeccable Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, with a baby who’d been aptly named for more than one reason.  Who knew that such a small creature could create such a gigantic, stinky nappy?

 

Lucius was still afraid to go back into the nursery.

 

He knew that Narcissa hadn’t left him alone on purpose... _ logically _ ...but his ingrained sense of propriety reared in protest at being in such an undignified situation. It hadn't helped that Draco had spit up on his shoulder, and Lucius had never been very good with his Scourgify. He could still detect a faint whiff of sour milk whenever he turned his head.  

 

Another knock sounded from the other side of the door.

 

“I know, I know! I’m opening it!” Lucius cried angrily, twisting the knob and pulling the door open so hard that he nearly dropped Draco, who merely squealed with laughter and held on tightly to his father’s long hair.

 

Lucius bit back a scream at the pain, but when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door, his mouth fell open in surprise.

 

The Malfoy mansion was protected by a number of wards, so no muggles ever disturbed them, and the number of wizarding folks who knew how to reach his front door without finding themselves riddled with itchy, bleeding warts.

 

“Good afternoon, Lucius,” Severus said, looking at Draco with faint amusement as the small boy threw himself back, holding onto his father’s hair like child hanging from a rope swing and then pulled himself back up before throwing himself back again. “That looks... _ painful _ .”

 

“Severus,” Lucius grumbled, but then his face abruptly brightened as he realized that he was saved.  After all, Snape was teaching at a school with  _ children _ . Oh yes.  This would be  _ perfect _ . Lucius did his best to plaster on his best fake smile and stepped to the side.  “Ah, where  _ are _ my manners! Come in, come in!”

 

Severus fixed him with a suspicious look, but stepped into the front hall anyway.  It was only when Lucius saw who was with him that he nearly jumped back with shock.

 

“What is that...that... _ thing _ !?” He cried, clutching Draco, who had begun to stare at the creature standing on the doorstep and even waved a chubby hand in its direction.

 

“Her  _ name _ is Hermione.  She is my familiar. I trust that this will not be a problem, will it?” Severus replied, looking at Lucius pointedly, “Also, you are holding him incorrectly.  May I?”

 

Lucius handed his squirming son over to the dark professor, trying not to look as grateful as he felt.  It would not do to let Severus know how utterly unprepared he was to take care of his son without the house elves or his wife there to do...well...everything.

 

Severus supported Draco with one arm while keeping him from keeling over backwards with the other.  Draco looked up at the dark, hook-nosed man with large, silvery gray eyes and gave him a big, somewhat gummy smile.  Severus patted the boy on his head somewhat awkwardly and then set him down on his bottom.

 

“No! Dont! Nrrrrrghhhhh!” Lucius reached out to stop Severus, but it was too late.  The boy had picked himself up and was toddling off towards the sitting room as fast as his chubby legs could carry him.

 

“What?” Severus asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Why would you do that?!” Lucius thundered angrily.

 

“Why would you insist on carrying your child around like royalty?” Severus shot back, “The more exercise he gets, the better he will sleep, and...good lord, what is that  _ smell _ ?”

 

Severus pulled his wand and soundly Scourgified Lucius’ shoulder.

 

“T...thank you, Severus,” Lucius said, his face growing scarlet with embarrassment as a loud crash issued from the sitting room.

 

Both men ran into the room, Hermione squeaking as she tried to keep up.

 

“ _ Draco _ !” Lucius cried worriedly.

 

Draco was sitting on his bottom next to the remains of what seemed to be a large glass sculpture. Lucius grabbed the boy, who looked more surprised than hurt and squeezed him tightly, staring at Severus intently.

 

“ _ Reparo _ ,” Severus said with an exasperated sigh, watching the sculpture spring together as though nothing had happened.

 

Draco clapped and laughed loudly at the spectacle and leaned forward as though trying to get back to the sculpture to break it again.

 

“Do you see why I did not want to let him out of my sight?” Lucius sighed deeply, holding Draco firmly in his arms. “So, then, to what do I owe your impromptu visit.  Or did you hear my exasperated cries echoing over the hills and come to my aid?”

 

Severus shook his head, a small smile playing across his lips, which made Lucius smirk back at him.  Hermione hopped up onto the sofa next to Lucius and looked at Draco, her whiskers wiggling with curiosity.  Of course, she didn’t move away fast enough and Draco ended up poking her hard on the nose with one of his fingers. She squeaked in outrage and scurried onto the floor, baring her teeth angrily.

 

“Draco is a baby. You knew what you were getting into, Hermione,” Severus said simply when she turned her head and squeaked indignantly at him.

 

“His nails are like claws,” Lucius lamented, “I already have scratch marks down one side of my neck! Oh, why is fatherhood so...so...painful!?”

 

“Lucius, I need you to focus.  I have a very important reason for coming to see you today. It is in regards to...this...” Severus spoke in a tone of voice that was suddenly serious as he pulled up his sleeve and displayed his Mark.

 

Lucius immediately went from being a bit whiny and grumpy to sitting utterly still, his back rigidly straight.

 

“Do not show off that filthy thing while my son is present,” Lucius sneered, moving back in his seat as though the ugly faded thing had offended him personally.

 

Severus rolled his sleeve back up with a sigh.

 

“Do you like living like this, Lucius?  The wealth, your place at the Ministry...your family?”

 

Lucius looked as though he’d been struck.

 

“Are you threatening my family, Severus?” He asked angrily.

 

“No, not at all.  In fact, it’s the exact opposite,” Severus replied, folding his fingers and laying them in his lap, “However, you will have to be honest with me.  Did... _ he _ ...give you a book?”

 

Lucius scowled in confusion. “What book?”

 

“It would be about this size and leather bound.” Severus made a shape with his hands.

 

Lucius thought for a moment and then shook his head. “The D-er... _ HE _ gave me a number of things. What exactly do you need it for?”

 

“Have you heard of something called a horcrux?” Severus asked darkly.

 

Lucius paled.

 

“No...it..it couldn’t be…” he stammered.

 

“Do you understand now why I need it?” Severus replied.

 

Just then, Hermione appeared in the doorway with a loud muffled squeak.

 

“Speak of the devil,” Severus said with a smirk.

 

Hermione was carrying the book in her mouth and spat it onto the floor in a rather undignified manner.

 

Slipping the mithril bag from his jacket, Severus pulled the diary inside and tied it shut.

 

Lucius simply sat where he was, his face frozen in shock.  Draco pulled himself loose and slid down from his father’s lap, half-crawling and half-toddling towards Hermione, who squeaked frightfully and hid behind Severus.

 

“Looks like you have a new friend,” Severus mused with a smile as Draco caught hold of her tail.

 

Hermione simply squeaked back a number of things that should never be repeated in polite company.

 

In the end, Severus rescued her by picking her up and placing her around his shoulders, where she squeaked her annoyance and snuggled against his neck.

 

“All this time...it might have affected Draco...or me….” Lucius stammered, his face still somewhat pale.

 

“The energy it emits seems mostly dormant or Hermione would have been affected by picking it up.  It seems that the older these things are, the less  _ awake _ they seem to be.”  Severus shrugged and began to move towards the hallway.

 

“No!” Lucius lunged forward and grabbed Severus the hem of his jacket. “Please! Don't leave me alone with...him.” 

 

He pointed at Draco, who was pushing the glass statue over yet again.  Severus Levitated it with a silent sweep of his wand and then flicked it back and forth, encasing Draco in a bubble.

 

“I hear muggles use something similar for hamsters,” Severus remarked as Draco began to roll around in it, shrieking wildly with excitement.

 

“My son is not a hamster,” Lucius scoffed, folding his arms, “but today is one of the major House Elf holidays, and Narcissa won’t be back for hours yet.  What say you join me for some lunch?”

 

“And by join you, you mean…?” Severus trailed off, looking pointedly at Lucius, who suddenly looked embarrassed.

 

“You’ve got me.  I’m hopeless in the kitchen,” Lucius replied, deflating miserably. “I think I can manage blackened toast, but that’s about it.”

 

“Very well,” Severus replied, “I can’t have you starving to death and leaving Draco an orphan.”

 

Lucius stood, his eyes brimming with grateful tears. “This way, come on! It’s only down the hall…”

 

They were an odd group- a pure blooded, aristocratic father with his babbling, vivacious son and a black-clad, hook-nosed professor with an otter draped around his neck who kept begging for bits of tuna sandwich, but lunch did not disappoint.

 

After all, it  _ was _ a victory meal in more ways than one.


	24. Thinly Veiled Threats

Privet Drive seemed to be a fairly normal place at first glance, but Hermione knew better.  Though she’d never visited Harry’s childhood home, she’d heard many disparaging stories about the Dursleys, and had trouble thinking about the neatly cut front lawns and nearly identical suburban housing with anything other than a slight sense of disdain.  

 

Petunia Dursley opened the door after the third knock, her head cocked to the side as she held the phone against her ear with her shoulder, but when she saw who it was, she paled and the plastic receiver dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.  

 

She seemed to inhale forever, her eyes wide as though she were about to let out an inhuman shriek.  In the end, she pinched her lips together as though she’d just swallowed an entire glass of freshly squeezed lemon juice and picked up the receiver where it was lying on the floor.

 

“I’ll have to call you back, Hyacinth,” she screeched shrilly, “It appears I have an _uninvited_ guest on my front porch.”

 

She turned without a word and marched stiffly back to the end of the hall past the staircase, and slammed the phone onto the receiver with a resounding clang. Turning back abruptly, she marched back to the front door, which was still hanging open, and stared up at Severus, who was standing rigidly on the doormat with a somewhat amused look on his face.

 

“Well?!” Petunia growled irritably, looking him up and down suspiciously as though mentally warring with her better judgement, “You’d better come in.  Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see you.  Lord knows what they’d think!”

 

Hermione had the urge to uncurl herself from where she lay wrapped around the dark Potion master’s neck like an otter stole, and bite Petunia on her long, pointed nose, but she refrained.

 

The second the door closed quietly behind Severus, Petunia turned around again, her arms crossed and her toe tapping against the wooden entryway floor impatiently.

 

“ _Snape_ ,” she hissed venomously, “It was _you_ , wasn’t it!”

 

She turned abruptly, and Hermione squeaked with surprise.

 

Petunia threw open the cabinet under the stairs and pulled out a small, wiggling bundle that was surprisingly quiet.  She held the toddler at arms length, as though he had some sort of disease that was catching, and practically threw the boy at Severus.

 

“Take him, then!” She cried, “Take him and go! I knew that Lily was a whore, but I hadn’t realized just how bad it was!”

 

Severus held the baby awkwardly, noticing immediately how thin the boy was, and something terrible flared inside of his chest until he thought he might scream.  A pungent smell was emanating from the boy’s nappy and it was obvious the child hadn’t been changed in a long time.  The boy, however was quiet and almost abnormally still; his large, bluish-green eyes staring up at Severus seriously.  He could even see the pink lightning-bolt-shaped mark on the boy’s forehead.  Those eyes...they weren’t exactly like Lily’s eyes- hers had been darker green, like the forest at twilight, but he could see how they would soon darken and become unnervingly similar.

 

Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, he shot a derisive sneer at Petunia.

 

“Couldn’t be bothered to feed and care for the child simply because of his parentage, could we?” He growled at Petunia, taking some pleasure in the way that she took a step back, her face torn between terror and being utterly appalled at his accusation.

 

“I take care of him as best I can, all things considered!” She retorted, sticking her nose in the air. “My little Dudders just comes first, is all! Besides, now that his father has returned, he won’t be needing my care any longer, will he?”

 

Severus stared, realization suddenly dawning on his face.

 

“You think-?” He started, staring at her.

 

“Well, he’s got your hair and skin tone. Seems fitting that he’d be a bastard, just like you,” Petunia shrugged, her eyes hard, “I assumed that you’d finally convinced that daft Headmaster of yours to stop dumping other people’s problems on innocent people’s doorsteps!”

 

“I will have you know that my parents were indeed married when they had me,” Severus replied darkly, “not that you deserve to know that.  I wonder, do you ever think that perhaps the reason why you don’t have magic of your own is because you’re simply so vile that magic is repulsed by your very existence?”

 

Petunia looked as though she’d been slapped, but she said nothing, her eyes darting down to the side of Snape’s robes as though expecting him to pull a wand from his pocket and attempt to test his theory.

 

Severus looked at Harry, whose chubby little fist was now crammed into his little mouth as though he was about to chew the damn thing off. Severus, while not having remembered this period in his own life, was very familiar with the feeling of unending hunger from his long, poverty-stricken childhood down at Spinner’s End. His rage was impossible to control at the thought of a defenseless child being forced to endure such neglect when the home itself was lavishly furnished and it was obvious that there was plenty of food in the larder.

 

“It’s obvious that he’s starving! Prepare some food for him, woman!” Severus snarled, smirking when Petunia went rigid and turned with a frightened squeak towards the kitchen to do as he’d demanded.

 

She brought back a bottle and a bowl of mashed baby food.

 

“Now, go change the boy and get him cleaned up,” Severus thundered menacingly.

  
Petunia took Harry with a look of loathing, but she did as she was told.

 

Hermione squeaked sadly at him.

 

“I know, I know. I’m thinking,” Severus replied, biting his thumb as he tried to think of what to do.  

 

It was far worse than he’d dared to imagine.  The idea that Albus had basically abandoned a helpless child in the care of these horrible, neglectful people made him seethe with fury.

 

In the end, he knew what he had to do, but he knew it was a terrible risk, one that he’d pay for dearly if anything were to go wrong.

 

Petunia had appeared again, thrusting Harry back into Snape’s arms with a look of barely contained revulsion.  She turned around and marched back to the cupboard under the stairs, pulling a basket full of items from the floor and practically throwing it at Snape as well.

 

“Take the boy! Take his things!” she exclaimed, “Take them all and leave us be!”

 

Severus sneered as cruelly as possible, using his full height to take advantage of his most intimidating loom.  He towered over Petunia like a giant bird of prey, his hooked nose only improving the mental image.

 

“Tell no one what you know or what you’ve done,” he commanded, “or you will regret it. Terribly.”

 

Petunia stared back indignantly.

 

“As though I would!” She huffed.

 

“To ensure that you keep your word, swear that you will wait until I have gone and that you shall do as I say and take this potion.” Severus pulled the small phial from his robes, plucking a singular black hair from Harry’s head and dropping it in. “Pour the entire contents into your dinnertime meal tonight.  It will remove any and all memories of anything pertaining to Harry Potter.  Most fortunately for you, you will not remember my visit, either.”

 

Petunia smiled, then, but it was not a kind smile.

 

“Finally,” she remarked, “An _actually_ useful bit of magic.”

 

“It isn’t magic the way you think,” Severus retorted, “but I see no need to explain it to you.  You will, after all, not remember any of this.”

 

With that, he turned and left the house with a very serious-looking baby boy in his arms and a very relieved otter, Apparating away with a loud crack as soon he reached the tall trees at the end of the lane.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, the Dursleys had a lovely pot of fish soup and had an early evening.  For some reason, though Petunia could not say why the next morning, she had the feeling that a sense of great stress had lifted from her shoulders, and even her son and husband seemed to be greatly at ease once they awakened for breakfast. For some reason, Petunia did have randomly recurring nightmares of a giant black bird of prey screaming angrily in her ears as she ran and ran to escape it, but she chalked it up to having eaten too late the night before and did her best to ignore it.

* * *

 

 

It was only when he closed the door to Spinner’s End and sat down in his leather wingback chair, feeling Harry’s chubby hands pulling at the lapel of his jacket that Severus Snape seemed to realize the severity of his situation.

 

Hermione slipped down from around his neck and stood on the floor squeaking at him to turn her back into her human form, but his arms felt so heavy that he wasn’t certain that he was even capable of lifting his wand at the moment.

 

“Merlin, Hermione,” he said, his face frozen in shock as the enormity of what he’d done crashed down on him in full force, “How in Merlin’s name are we going to take care of a baby?”


	25. Why I Otter…

Author’s Note: So, I had to rework this chapter after the fact because my 2AM brain-addled writer’s mind totally forgot that Harry would be around 18 months or so instead of slightly over 12 months.  Also, I think I completely forget the time when my own children were 18 months due to brain damage caused by sleep deprivation. So I’m going to change it in the interest of not being yelled at in the comments any longer.

* * *

  


**Chapter 25: Why I Otter…**

 

Hermione did not like biting people on principle.  Not only did it usually taste horrible, but she thought herself above being such an animal, even when she was in animal form.

 

Severus, however, was staring at Harry as though the boy was a dementor come to give him a Kiss.  No matter how loudly Hermione squeaked at him, he didn’t turn his head to look at her.  In fact, all he would do was mumble things under his breath in a broken manner. It was as though his mind had overheated and he simply couldn’t handle the complexity of the situation he now found himself in.

 

Finally, she’d had enough.  She lunged forward and nipped Severus right on the finger of his right hand.

 

“Yowch!” Severus yelped, nearly dropping Harry, who began to giggle. “Hermione! Why would you _-oh_.”

 

Hermione gave him a half-lidded glare, which was harder to do without discernable eyebrows and while in otter form, but she managed.

 

With a wave of his wand, she was standing in human form, looking at him with the same expression.

  
“Come on, then,” she said, motioning to Severus with both hands.

  
He looked at her dumbly for a moment before he seemed to understand and handed Harry over.

 

Hermione may have been an only child, but she had done some babysitting before during the summers at home. She liked children well enough, though the nappy and spitting up part left much to be desired. Hermione was surprised at how light he was in her arms.

 

“They’ve only had him for a few months and he looks like _this_ ,” Hermione muttered murderously, clutching Harry protectively. “No. Harry, we shall never make you go back to those _monsters_.”

 

Harry giggled and snuggled into her chest with a happy coo, and it was then that she knew for certain that he’d been starved of much more than food.  Almost humorously, Harry stayed glued to Hermione for the next half an hour as Severus finally deposited the mithril bags and their unpleasant occupants in his laboratory and then went upstairs to get washed up.

 

Meanwhile, Hermione conjured up some wide cloth straps to help her hold Harry in place against her body while she worked on preparing his bottle.  Even though he wasn’t a baby any longer, he still wanted to be close to her, and her arms and back were letting her know in no uncertain terms that they protested being used for such a long time without a break.  It wasn’t exactly easy with him wiggling against her (and trying to put his hand down her shirt a couple of times, which was utterly embarrassing)  but she was able to get a reasonably warm bottle of formula ready for him within a few minutes.  She placed him in one of the chairs and strapped him into it for good measure.  After all, it wouldn’t do to have him fall head first onto the tile floor. He happily ate it all without complaint, and burped loudly when he was finished. Clapping his hands, Harry opened his mouth wide, grinning with satisfaction and showed off his baby teeth. Hermione could see where his molars had only recently broken through the gum line. She began to wonder what solid foods would be best to try with him, especially due to the fact that she knew some children could develop allergies if exposed to certain foods too early.  She was, however, pretty certain that there was a book that would help her figure it out.

 

“Waaaan! Waan!” Harry was holding out his arms and shouting insistently at her. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant.

 

Hermione smiled and released Harry from his bonds, letting him practically pounce onto her lap.  She bounced him gently on her knee, eliciting another loud burp and a string of giggles from the small boy. She began wondering what Harry, _her_ Harry would think of this odd situation. He’d probably blush and tell her that he’d really appreciate it if she’d not seen that particular thing.

 

In fact, she wondered if things had already changed because Severus had taken Harry away from the neglectful home that he’d originally grown up in. Then she began to worry about whether it would change things so much that the future would no longer be anything like she remembered.

 

“But really, would it be that bad?” She said to Harry in a sing-song voice as she played a halfway decent game of patty-cake with him.  He seemed to be enjoying the game quite a until he suddenly turned, his eyes growing wide and serious at something behind Hermione.

 

“He’s staring at me again,” Severus commented from the doorway, “It’s beginning to creep me out.”

 

“Do you think that what Petunia said was true?” Hermione asked, feeling bad about bringing up the subject of the unpleasant Mrs. Dursley again so soon after having to see her in the flesh.

 

“What? His parentage? Psh. Look at the boy’s hair and then tell me if you doubt his true parentage.  He looks like he just stuck a fork in an outlet.” Severus crossed his arms and leaned against one side of the door frame, pointedly trying to stare at anything but Harry Potter’s squirming form.  Harry began to practically kick Hermione in the stomach as he stretched his arms out straight towards the lanky Potions master, begging to be picked up.

 

“Peez! Peez! Up!” Harry cried, which made Hermione smirk as Severus grumbled.

 

“It looks like he wants you, Daddy Severus,” Hermione teased, snickering at the pinched look that Severus shot back at her.

 

“If I ever find myself referred to in that manner again, I think I shall be sick,” he replied sardonically, but he came forwards and took Harry from Hermione, holding the tot under the armpits and staring skeptically at him. “ _Why_ must this little... _creature_ insist on being utterly unimpressed with my terrifying visage?”

 

Hermione giggled. “I think that’s because most young children have a knack for knowing the difference between a truly scary person and someone who is simply trying to look that way.  Also, I think that after having to endure the Dursley’s so-called hospitality, your scowls and grumblings pale in comparison.”

 

Severus opened his mouth to say something else, but Harry had grasped him by the tip of his beak-like nose and he made a surprised “wumph” noise instead. This, of course, made Harry giggle loudly, which proved to be infectious to Hermione as well.

 

“What are we going to do with the boy while we’re at school?” Severus said, rubbing his nose after handing Harry back to Hermione again.

 

Hermione bounced and rocked Harry gently, noticing how his head was beginning to droop heavily on her shoulder.  She smiled, looking at Severus conspiratorily.

 

“Shhh,” she said quietly, “It looks like someone is about to go off to the land of Nod.”

 

Severus looked at her confusedly for a moment before realization dawned in his eyes and he set about creating a little bed on the couch for the boy.  Hermione gently laid him down and wrapped him in the blanket that she found in the basket Petunia had practically thrown at Severus earlier, watching Harry with a sense of protectiveness that she didn’t realize she had in her.  It was very different from how she normally felt about her family and friends.  Sure, he was technically Harry, a boy she had become close friends with from the moment that he and Ron had saved her from a murderous troll, but he was also small.  Defenseless.

 

There was something about these things that made her want to protect him like a mama bear protecting her cubs.  It was then, as she realized, with some embarrassment, that Severus was looking at her with a mixture of awe and desire, that she knew what she was feeling.

 

“He will be my son,” she said, staring fiercely at Severus and daring him to disagree.

 

He shook his head and she flinched, worried that he was about to say something heartless and cruel.

 

“No,” he said, his face solemn. “He will be _our_ son. Though I cannot promise not to utterly muck it up.”

 

“And I think I know exactly how we’ll pull it off,” Hermione said, smirking deviously as she took Severus by the hand and led him towards the kitchen.

 

Severus began to follow her before he seemed to remember something and pulled back, turning to face Harry and cast a couple of charms around the sleeping boy- one to keep him from falling off the couch, and one to notify them both if he woke up. It would not do for the boy to toddle around and open up one of the dark magic tomes on the nearby bookcase or pull something heavy over on himself.

 

Satisfied, he turned with a smirk as Hermione looked at him sheepishly.

 

“Dumb me, thinking like a muggle!” Hermione moaned softly as they entered the hall, but then she recovered, “Wait... _how_ did you know those charms, anyway?”

 

“Even though the House Elves are useful, there are times when they cannot...fulfill their duties,” Severus replied, looking sheepish. “I may, on occasion, have served as nurseminder for young Draco.”

 

Visions of baby Draco wearing a frilly bonnet and pulling on Snape’s hair or vomiting up his food on Snape’s dark robes filled Hermione’s head. She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle the laughter that was threatening to escape, and it wasn’t long before Severus was sitting across from her with a hand over his own mouth as well, trying to look serious while attempting to refrain from dissolving into a fit of laughter.

 

“It was fairly awful at it at first, to be completely honest, but Narcissa...she is the most capable of mothers, and an excellent teacher,” Severus admitted, when they’d calmed down and a cup of tea was in front of them both. “Like all things, one only gets better with practice.”

 

“I can think of _another_ sort of practice I’d like to get up to,” Hermione replied rakishly, causing Severus to nearly spit out a mouthful of tea.

 

It was then that he stood abruptly, towering over her, and she’d only just had the chance to put the tea on the table when he pulled her chair out abruptly and lifted her chin with one finger bringing his lips against hers with the maddening pressure of barely-controlled desire.

 

“I thought you would never ask,” he whispered huskily against her lips as they gasped and came up for air.

 

Hermione had never gotten up to such _shenanigans_ against a wall in a kitchen before, but as he kissed her hot and fast and pressed his body against hers, Severus made it very clear that he was happy to help her find out _exactly_ how pleasurable it could be.

* * *

 

Petunia Dursley was a nosy woman by nature.  So, when the strange, old man with the long gray beard began to walk up and down her street at different times of the day, she noticed immediately.  Petunia was well aware of the nightly news stories about child abductors and weird people who turned out to be cannibals or murderers but she knew that she’d be written off as hysterical if she called the police over some odd man who happened to stroll down a public street.  Still, she felt personally offended by the man, as though he were exuding some odorless stench that made her stick her nose in the air and draw all the curtains until she was sure that he was gone.

 

Then, one evening, when Petunia had just finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and Vernon was putting his feet up while watching a little rugby on the television, it happened.  There was a soft knock at the front door and Petunia rushed to the front hall, untying her apron.

 

Something, perhaps it was the realization that it was very dark outside, made her pause before opening the door and instead she called “Who is there?”

 

“Hello, Petunia.”  The voice was familiar, and terrifying all at once.  Petunia’s mind reeled.  She knew that voice, but she despised it at the same time.

 

“What do you want?” She replied sharply, feeling her hackles raising.

 

“How is the boy?” The man’s voice asked, and Petunia feld her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Logically, she knew that Dudley was crashing cars into each other in the television room where his father was, but headlines swam in front of her eyes featuring her son on the front.

 

“Leave him alone, you!” She hissed angrily through the door, “He’s our beloved son and you will never have him!”

 

A noise came from the man on the other side of the door that sounded almost like a triumphant chuckle, but Petunia had blood rushing in her ears as she readied herself to run to the phone to telephone the police.

 

“Ah, yes, how delightful.  Just remember to take good care of him, Petunia.  After all, you know that if you do not, Lily would be disappointed.”

 

Petunia thought it odd that the man seemed to know of her sister, but she didn’t think much of it.  After all, there had been all sorts of weird people who had known Lily Potter, and the sooner she and her normal little family were well shot of any ties to them, the better.

 

“You’d better leave right now and never come back!” Petunia huffed loudly, “Or else I’m going to call the police and have them take you away!”

 

“Ah, yes, so you shall.” The man’s voice seemed resigned but satisfied. “Goodbye, then, Petunia.  I hope I shall not need to check in on you again.”

 

Petunia waited by the front door until the man’s soft footfalls faded away and then looked out the window to confirm that the man had gone.  It was only then that she realized that she was gripping her forearm arm so hard that her fingernails had drawn blood.

 

“Good riddance!” Petunia scoffed, running to the kitchen sink to run her arm under cool water.

 

But all that night, she found her eyes opening wide at every tiny noise as the house settled and bushes scratched against windows.  

 

For something told Petunia Dursley that the mysterious man who’d visited her was a terribly dangerous person, and the thought that he might be after anyone’s son was utterly terrifying.

* * *

  


“Are you sure it will work?” Severus asked skeptically.

 

“We won’t know until we try it,” Hermione replied with a shrug. “However, every book I’ve researched on the subject says that it’s perfectly harmless and may actually have other positive effects, such as allowing the child to develop certain physical development milestones more quickly.”

 

“Fine.  But if the child explodes, on your head so be it,” Severus grumbled and pulled his wand out.

 

Instantly, Hermione was in otter form again, moving up to the couch where Harry was sitting and watching them intently.  He clapped and grinned when Hermione shimmied up onto the couch next to him.

 

She stared at Severus pointedly and he groaned.

 

“Fine, fine, I’m doing it already!” he muttered, pointing his wand at Harry.

 

There was a small pop and suddenly, an otter pup was lying on the blanket where the child had been.  Hermione immediately picked up the pup with her mouth and began grooming him while he squeaked with pleasure. After she’d finished grooming Harry, Severus watched as Hermione dutifully herded the curious pup around his living room and had to admit that Harry was even cuter in his new form.

 

“Heh. Forget Harry Potter.  Let’s call him Hairy Otter instead,” Severus said with a snicker.

 

Hermione made a derisive snort and let out a dubious squeak.

 

“I know, I know. Terrible pun.  I simply could not help myself,” Severus replied, hiding his smirk behind his hand.

 

With that, Severus sat back on his leather wingback chair watching the otters play and chase each other, and it became rather clear that he was going to need some sort of swimming tank for the two otters.  After all, the nearby river was still choked with remnants of the industrial waste that had been choking its banks for decades.  Intrigued, he summoned a pen and some parchment and began making tentative plans, only stopping when Hermione climbed up on his chair by sliding her serpentine neck under the parchment and peering up at him with an absurdly adorable squeak.  Harry was hopping up and down at his adoptive mother’s feet trying to imitate Hermione and doing an adorably poor job of it due to his size.  Unlike in his toddler form, it was much easier for him to move around on four legs, but Severus marveled at how, when he looked into the little otter’s eyes, they were still the exact same shade of green as when he was in human form.

 

Once Hermione and Harry had been transformed back into their human shapes, it was very obvious that Harry was hungry again.  After a feeding, a changing, a bath and a little rocking and cuddling, Harry was ready to sleep for the night.  Severus spent some time remodeling and baby-proofing the tiny room that had been his own while Hermione finished with the bath and diapering part of the equation.  Hermione put Harry down in the large, oak crib, looking at Severus with surprise.

 

“My grandad on my father’s side made it for me when my parents announced they were having me,” he said, somewhat uncomfortably, “It’s been in the attic ever since.  My father once wanted to tear it apart and burn it when we were low on coal, but Mum won the argument in the end.”

 

Harry seemed to agree that the bed was absolutely perfect, as it was obvious that he had fallen into a deep asleep. Severus cast the same detection and protection charms over the crib as he had earlier, and both he and Hermione made their way to the master bedroom, their bodies far too exhausted to do much more than cuddle before they both slipped off into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	26. A Rat Among Weasleys

 

Severus stood outside the door to the Burrow with a sour look on his face.

 

“Are you sure we need to do this, Hermione?” he hissed under his breath.  Hermione nipped his fingers from his pocket, where he’d created a perfect little den for her and Harry using an Undetectable Extension Charm.  After all, they couldn’t be expected to ride around his neck together, and Harry would not stop wiggling around, which made the prospect of falling rather likely. Still, she wanted to be able to see, so she peeked out of the pocket even as Harry started grooming her tail for the fiftieth time.

 

“Hello?” 

 

The door swung open and Hermione’s eyes widened with surprise.  

 

There stood a much younger and far less plump version of Molly Weasley.  Well, no, that was silly.  She was the same Molly Weasley, simply much younger.  She looked as tired as one might expect a woman who had given birth to seven children to look, but it was exacerbated when a tiny giggling streak of white ran through her legs and out the door.

 

“YOU COME BACK HERE, GINEVRA WEASLEY!” Molly shouted, pushing Severus aside as she bore down upon the toddler, who appeared to have shed ever piece of clothing she’d been wearing, including her nappy. 

 

Ginny merely shrieked and rounded the corner of the house as though it were all a game.  Two twin boys who looked to be about three or four years old loitered in the entrance hall looking rather impish as they held a onesie and a cloth nappy that had been untied.  They saw Snape and waved at him merrily, as though they’d done everything for his benefit.

 

“Charming,” Severus said sardonically as Molly stomped back towards the door to the Burrow with a squirming and protesting Ginny under her arm.

 

“Well? What are  _ you _ doing here, then?” Molly asked suspiciously, grabbing the nappy and onesie from her twin sons and somehow grabbing both of them by the ear with the other hand all the while holding Ginny under her other arm.

 

Severus flinched. It was obvious that Molly didn’t have a very high opinion of the surly Potions master.

 

“I am here on a mission,” Severus said simply. “It has come to my attention that you have a...rodent problem.”

 

Molly flushed angrily as she fixed Ginny’s nappy with a Sticking charm.

 

“Did you come all the way from Hogwarts to insult my household?!” She shrieked shrilly, looking back at Severus from the floor with undisguised hatred.

 

“N-no...that...that’s not it at all…” Severus was beginning to become flustered, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

 

Hermione squeaked encouragingly at him and he stroked her head with his hand, the tension beginning to drain from him.  Encouraged, she dipped her head back into his pocket and pulled Harry out by the nape of his neck, leaping from the pocket with a squeak.

 

Fred and George cried out in glee as the otters tumbled to the floor and Ginny clapped her hands together as the smaller otter ran right for her, tickling her cheeks with his whiskers as he sniffed at her baby nose curiously. Hermione rubbed up against Severus before running over to Molly and standing on her hind legs, squeaking derisively.  

 

Molly was not amused.

 

“Am I being lectured by a...large weasel?!” She exclaimed. “And get that little one away from my baby!”

 

‘You’re one to talk,’ Hermione thought, with an indignant squeak.

 

“They’re otters,” Severus said tiredly, “One is my familiar, and the other is...a new addition.”

 

Ginny giggled, grabbing Harry into a tight hug as he squeaked with surprise but seemed to endure it rather well.

 

“Mrs. Weasley, I understand that your husband has a...peculiar pet,” Severus said, his voice unnervingly even, “May I see it?”

 

Hermione stopped squeaking and ran to Harry’s rescue, pulling the little otter away from Ginny by the scruff of his neck.  The twins thought this was hilarious, though one glare from their mother sent them both running up the stairs.

 

“What do you want with that vile thing?” Molly said suspiciously, “I can’t abide rats in the house, so I make him keep it in a cage in the shed out back.  If you truly want it, you’re welcome to take it. Arthur thinks it’s unnaturally intelligent. He wants to breed the creature, though he hasn’t been successful yet!  Good riddance, if you ask me! Still, I’d feel bad taking it away from him...”

 

“I am not going to take it outright,” Severus replied, “In fact, the shipment should be arriving about- ah, here she is.”

 

A great horned owl with a bow tied around her left claw landed softly on the perch by the front door.

 

“I have taken the liberty to set up a trade,” Severus continued, “One dirty rat for one beautiful new owl.”

 

It was obvious that Molly wanted to take the deal, but her expression was torn.

 

“Arthur is convinced that he’s a proper wizard’s rat.  They’re exceedingly rare, you know, and most of the time, they’re horribly expensive to purchase,” she said, patting Ginny on the head as she ran off into the front room to play with a bunch of multicolored blocks that a slightly older toddler was stacking carefully in a tower formation. “He’s been training the thing.  With Camembert cheese, which is expensive, as you well know.”

 

“For what purpose, if you don’t mind me asking?” Severus replied, his eyes darting over to look at Hermione and Harry, who’d followed Ginny and were now running around the children and the blocks with happy chirps and squeaks.  Harry even grabbed a block in his mouth, which earned him a scolding from Hermione.

 

“He wants Bill to take Scabbers- that’s the name he came up for the thing- to Hogwarts with him once he gets his letter because Errol is far too old,” Molly replied, standing and smoothing down her apron. “I keep telling him that he’s mad for doing it, but when the man gets an idea in his head, Merlin help anyone who stands in his way!”

 

It was obviously an old argument that Molly had lost many times. Severus was fairly certain that this was the only reason she’d started ranting so easily about it, especially to someone such as himself.

 

“Molly, I know that we’ve never been friends, but what if I told you that this rat could very well clear the name of a man who was wrongly convicted and sent to Azkaban? Do you think that your husband would be able to forgive you for taking my offer?”   
  


Molly leaned forward as though expecting someone to listen in on her.

 

“How? Is Dumbledore aware?” she whispered.

 

“Why do you think I’m here?” Severus replied, skirting the question amiably, “I will, however, have to ask for your discretion in this matter, as time is of the essence and may very well determine the difference between life or death.”

 

Molly’s eyes widened, and a wild spark lit up her tired eyes as she drew closer to Snape than he felt comfortable with.

 

“I haven’t been part of a mission for ages!” she whispered excitedly, “Oh, of course, yes, yes, I’m sure Arthur will understand!”

 

“Mum? Who’s this?”  An older red-haired boy shuffled down the stairs, his hands in his pockets.

 

“Bill, could you please watch Ronniekins and Ginny while I walk Mr. Snape to the shed?” Molly asked in a tone of voice that was more demand than question, “I should only be a few moments. By the way, where are your brothers, anyway?”

 

Bill shrugged. “Charlie and Percy are upstairs playing Gobstones, and I think that Fred and George are having a fart contest. I wouldn’t go up there for a bit, if I were you.”

 

Molly looked like she wanted to run up the stairs to punish the twins immediately, but in the end, she controlled herself and, with a somewhat sour look, stomped out of the front door with Severus on her heels.

 

Hermione realized that Severus was leaving her behind and squeaked at Harry to follow her.  He did so as well as he could, tripping over himself, managing to look both adorable and clumsy at the same time.

 

Ron thought this was hilarious and laughed so hard that he fell over.  Ginny was attempting to scamper on all four feet like Harry and Hermione were, and did a reasonably good imitation for a one-year old.

 

Harry finally leapt onto Hermione’s back and held on, which Hermione did not appreciate in the least, both of them sliding against the front door to the burrow with enough momentum to knock the wind out of them as it slammed shut.

 

“Come on, then, do you want a bit of food?” A young boy, slightly younger than Bill Weasley was standing a respectable distance away sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin and a friendly look on his face.

 

Hermione could already tell that he was good with animals, and wondered if this was the reason why he was so unnaturally good with dragons.

 

The twins appeared with a water dish and some meat, which Hermione and Harry ate greedily.  Then Bill took turns lifting the twins by both bicep, pretending to be a circus strongman as the others laughed.  Hermione felt a bit wistful at the lively feel of the scene.  She’d been at the Burrow many times, but it had never really been like this, as Bill and Charlie were often abroad, and Percy had been estranged for several years.

 

There was a sense of unity that was foreign to her as well.  Being an only child, Hermione had never known the trials and tribulations of having to share with a sibling, but she’d also never known the sense of camaraderie.  It was almost enough to make her cry.

 

“Ah, here’s the entry!” Percy exclaimed, walking down the stairs with a big book in hand, “They’re otters!”

 

“You’re wrong Percy! They’re elephants!” Fred and George chorused together, looking at each other at the same time and bursting into laughter.

 

“I’m pretty sure that they’re actually a pair of very small, furry manatees,” Charlie said, smirking at Percy, who was turning an ugly shade of scarlet.

 

“No, no, Charlie!” Bill laughed, “You’d better get your eyesight checked.  They’re obviously a pair of Canadian geese!”

 

Ginny and Ron were too little to really add to the joke, but both of them found the excitement so hilarious that they ended up getting the hiccups.  

 

When Severus and Molly reappeared with a very sluggish, fat rat encased in a small iron-barred cage, Hermione squeaked happily running to run around his feet.

 

“This is Hermione,” Severus said. “She...saved my life.”

 

“And what about this cute little fellow?” Charlie said, bringing Harry over in his arms as the little otter snuffled up his sleeve, looking for more food, “Hah, he’s hungry already!”

 

“We’re still...figuring out what to do about him…” Severus replied uncomfortably.  

 

Severus thanked Molly and her family for their help and scooped Hermione and Harry back into his pocket, trying not to look more tense than he already was.

 

As he walked down the gravel drive, Hermione squeaked insistently from his pocket.

 

“I know, I know,” he said, scowling at the rat that lay motionless under a Total Body Bind, “but before we can get Black released, I believe it may be a good idea to bring a certain werewolf back into the picture.  You see, it may be less  _ troublesome _ with his...assistance.”

 

Hermione cocked her head at him savoring the small smile playing across his lips, then ducked down into the pocket, grooming a happily squeaking baby otter as Severus Apparated away towards their next destination.


	27. The Reluctant Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the huge hiatus with this story, but I’ve been judging for the QLFC and real life got in the way (I GOT A PROMOTION IRL, SO YAY ME).  I’m hoping to get more time to work on this fic in the upcoming weeks, so keep your eyes peeled!

 

“I never took you for a coffee sort of fellow.” The voice came from behind Severus and he turned with a wary look in his eyes.

 

“Lupin.  So you finally found the place,” he said, stirring his coffee slowly.

 

“So, then, what’s this about burying the hatchet, then?” Lupin asked, his expression somewhat bashful, “I thought...from the last time we…”

 

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Severus replied quickly.

 

Lupin went silent and stood awkwardly near Snape’s table as though trying to figure out if he should sit or not.

 

“Please take a seat, Lupin. You look tired,” Severus said, indicating the chair with a wide sweep of his hand. The shock on Lupin’s face was almost worth having to be nice to the man.

 

Lupin sat, leaning wearily on his elbow.  He looked as though he hadn’t slept in ages. His face was lined before its time and his hair was already a silvery blond even though he was barely in his early twenties. It was as though his vitality was being drained from him in increasing amounts with each full moon.

 

“You look like hell,” Severus remarked.

 

“Thanks,” Lupin replied, his expression a cross between weariness and irritation.

 

Two cups of coffee were placed on the table. Severus nodded politely at the waitress.

 

“Here,” he said, pulling out a small bottle, “Add two drops. You look like you need it.”

 

Lupin picked up the bottle and unstoppered it, sniffing it warily before adding two drops to his coffee. He handed the bottle back and blew on his steaming coffee, gulping it down quickly and looking a little green for a moment.  His color began to come back to him soon after, and he looked much better.

 

“Thank you, Severus,” Lupin said quietly.

 

“Interesting. You remembered to check the potion’s scent before using it. I see that you’re still the smartest Marauder,” Severus quipped.

 

Lupin flinched. “Severus. Please.  Don’t use that name. It’s...painful.”

 

“Fair enough,” Severus replied, leaning back in his chair, “So, then, why don’t we get down to it? There’s a good reason I asked to meet in a Muggle establishment. First off, to ensure that the only tail that follows you in is the one attached to your monthly form.”

 

Lupin blanched and looked around warily, as though he’d only just considered the idea that he could have been followed.  It was pretty obvious that they were the only ones dressed in semi-outdated clothing, though, and he relaxed immediately. Though Lupin looked as shabby as ever, he looked more like an out-of-work teacher than a wizard.  Severus looked like he was about to go to to the opera after an evening out on the town.  Both of them were obviously a bit out of place, but no one seemed to pay them any mind.

 

“I may have mentioned offhandedly that I was rehearsing for a new play when I was ordering,” Severus explained. “I imagine that they all have drawn their own conclusions, which is why no one seems ready to throw you out for coming to sit with me despite your...pungent aroma.”

 

“Hm. Smart,” Lupin grunted, turning his head to sniff at his shirt and wincing, “So...if you don’t mind my abruptness, why me? Why now?  It’s only been…well, not long.”

 

“What if I told you that your lover isn’t the heinous murderer you think he is?” Severus said in a low voice. “I mean, he tried to be a murderer, but there was a reason, as twisted as it was.”

 

“What?! But how did you-” Lupin went silent, his face turning scarlet with embarrassment.

 

Lupin, Lupin Lupin,” Severus tsked, “ I hate Black’s guts and even  _ I _ could see how he looked at you. The skirt-chasing wasn’t about love.  _ You _ , however…”

 

Lupin shifted in his chair, staring at the table fixedly.

  
“We’d just moved into a flat together when  _ it _ ...happened,” Lupin said quietly, his hands clenching into fists. “We were going to have a housewarming party once Vol- once You-Know-Who was dead.”

 

“You can say the word around me, you know,” Severus said, staring at his fingernails intently, “I’m not going to burst into flame.”

 

“Maybe I don’t want to say it. It’s a vile word, anyhow.”

 

Severus shrugged. “In any case, I wanted to talk to you here, first.  If you accept, I would like to show you the proof in person. You must, however, swear not to act rashly, and to follow my lead.”

 

“What is this about, Severus?” All traces of blush were gone and Lupin was leaning in, staring intently at the Potions master with his eyes screwed up in a concerned expression.

“I have found Pettigrew.” Severus stared at Lupin, watching his face go from shock to surprise to relief.

 

“He is alive?!” Lupin squeaked shakily, “but that means...how does it change anything?”

 

“Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper. He was the one who betrayed the Potters.  He was the one who brought the Dark Lord to their doorstep.” Severus steepled his fingers, watching Lupin’s reaction carefully.  He was testing Lupin, seeing if he could handle this terrible news without jumping straight to revenge, as he knew Sirius would most definitely do.

 

“I...this…this is too much,” Lupin said, finally, his fingers gripping his knees tightly as he fought to control his emotions. “What do you need of me? I shall do all that you ask.  I shall take a Vow if I must. I simply want Sirius freed and his name cleared.”

 

“I see,” Severus replied, looking skeptical.

 

“I mean it. I won’t touch the rat. I...I’m just not sure how I shall explain…”

 

“What, that your friend is an unregistered animagus and you were aware of it the whole time?” Severus replied bitterly. “Did Dumbledore know? Did he sweep that under the rug as well?”

 

Lupin shook his head. “No...just my... _ furry little problem _ . Of which you know.”

 

“I would like to bring this information to Dumbledore, but I need you to explain the animagus part to him, or he will begin to ask questions, such as how I found Pettigrew in the first place.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how  _ did _ you know?”

 

“That is irrelevant.” Severus swept his hand in the air as though dismissing the thought. “All that matters is that you are the one to bring this information to Dumbledore, along with the rat himself.  You can tell him that you had me go pick him up for you because you were concerned about your reaction. He was apparently leeching off of the Weasley family, if you’d really like to know.”

 

Lupin frowned and then nodded. “Well, then. I think that I can help you.”

 

“We do not need to take a formal Vow, but I would like you to take an Oath. Would that be amenable to you?” Severus said, pursing his lips together as he raised an eyebrow in askance.

 

“Certainly. I do not wish to leave you with any doubt,” Lupin replied, offering his hand to Severus. “I promise, upon the honor of my name and the lifeblood that runs through my veins, that I shall assist you, Severus Snape, in your endeavors to clear an innocent man’s name.”

 

“Let’s not go so far as to refer to Black as  _ innocent _ ,” Severus replied, sneering slightly out of habit, but he took Lupin’s hand in the end and shook it.

 

Lupin looked as though he wanted to argue, but then he shook his head and put on a polite smile. “I look forward to working with you, Severus.”

 

“Likewise,” Severus replied.

 

The two men stood and left together, turning down an empty alleyway before Severus took Lupin’s arm and they Disapperated together.

 

Only a stray dog, which had paused in its conquest of an overturned box of chinese take-out, saw them disappear, its ears flattened and its tail tucked between its legs as the loud crack rang out like a gunshot before fading to nothing.


	28. New Old Faces

Hermione had just finished putting Harry down for a nap when she felt the wards drop around the house.  Instinctively, her wand was in her hand the moment she felt it, and she warded the door to the nursery quickly, adding a Notice-Me-Not charm as an afterthought.

 

“Hermione, I have brought a...guest,” Severus said from the bottom of the stairs as the wards shuddered back into place and Hermione took a deep breath in relief.

 

“I’m on my way down,” she said, peeking her head around the corner and down the stairs, “I just got Harry to sleep.”

 

“Ah, then I shall make sure to be extra quiet,” Severus replied.

 

Hermione took the stairs two at a time, even though she knew it was somewhat dangerous and practically leapt off the stairs into his arms.  It was a fun little ritual that she’d taken to doing as an otter, but as she spent most of her time in human form in the house on Spinner’s End, it worked just as well on two legs than on four.

 

“Oof,” Severus grunted, but he was surprisingly strong under his robes and his lips were spread out in a smile as he pressed them to hers.  He spun her around once, then put her down and cleared his throat. “Hermione, I would like you to meet...Remus Lupin.”

 

Remus was staring at the two of them as though they’d transformed into Hippogriffs and begun dancing the can-can.

 

“You- and he- and- oh my!” Remus said, before fainting dead away onto the floor with a thud.

 

“Hmph,” Severus said, his mouth twisting into a half-sneer. “Talk about your critics.”

 

“Maybe he just couldn’t imagine you were capable smiling and seeing it was too much for his werewolf brain,” Hermione said, snickering.

 

“Be it as it may,” Severus replied, crossing his arms, “it is rather rude to keel over whilst visiting another person’s home.”

 

“Point taken, Severus,” Hermione grinned, pointing her wand at Lupin and levitating him into the air. “Now, then, I’ll move him to the couch while you go get the Pepperup Potion, okay? We need him to help free Sirius.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Severus replied, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if Black tries to kill me again, it will be on your head!”

 

“Don’t worry, I look forward to neutering that particular pooch if he tries,” Hermione repled, grinning protectively.

 

“Ooh, I do so like when you talk like that,” Severus said, his voice echoing slightly as he opened the potions storage closet in the hall. “I may just have to invest in a pensieve so that I can watch you kick his mangy cur arse over and over again.”

 

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hermione tutted, placing Lupin on the couch.  

 

Severus entered the front room and shoved a sachet under Lupin’s nose.  Lupin immediately shot up to a sitting position, his eyes wide.

 

“Drink this,” Severus commanded, handing over the bottle.

 

Lupin did as he was told and looked slightly more aware once he’d finished.

 

“Severus, why don’t you make us a snack?” Hermione said, placing her hand on his wrist gently. “I can talk to Remus.”

 

“Fine, but if he puts even one toenail out of line…” Severus looked at Lupin fiercely. “Behave, werewolf.”

 

“Noted,” Lupin replied, looking somewhat pale.

 

With that, Severus turned and stalked off down the hall towards the kitchen.  Hermione sighed as she heard the cabinet open and dishes clattering.

 

“Well, then,” she said, turning to face Lupin. “Thank you for coming, Remus.”

 

“Do...I know you?” Lupin asked, “I mean, I suppose I don’t, but…”

 

“No, you don’t know me...yet,” Hermione said, an enigmatic smile playing across her lips, “but you will.  Or, as things have changed so much, I’m not sure that will even be the case.  I first met you when I was thirteen years old.  You were my professor, you see...and I know it sounds insane, but the reason why Severus knows so much and why I know so much is because I...am not from here.  I am from the future, or as I like to call it,  _ a _ future.”

 

Lupin paled even more at this admission, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed rapidly.

 

“Think about it, Remus,” Hermione continued. “You live in a world of magic.  Why wouldn’t time travel be possible?  I come from a time where Sirius Black has been in Azkaban for over a decade, breaks out and is hunted as a fugitive before he is finally murdered by a Death Eater.  I come from a time where you marry a young Auror and have a child by her, both of you leaving him an orphan at the end of the second war.”

 

“Marriage….child….second…?” Lupin trailed off, understanding dawning in his eyes.

 

“Yes. Voldemort returns,” Hermione replied, her voice shaking slightly, “We are on a hunt to stop it from happening.”

 

She gave him a moment to digest this, which seemed to go relatively well other than the shocked expression that never seemed to leave Lupin’s face.

 

“What about Dumbledore? Is he aware? Surely he can-”  Lupin went silent as Hermione shook her head.

 

“I’m not sure how to tell you this, but…” Hermione trailed off, looking away from him, “...we think that something is happening to Dumbledore.  Something...dark.”

 

Lupin frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. “What’s the plan, then? Bring the rat to the Aurors and say ‘why hello there chaps, I just happened to find this rat that can turn into an old friend of mine who you think is dead so please release my friend’?”

 

“Well, not exactly,” Hermione said, smirking at Lupin’s sarcastic tone of voice, “but we would be asking you to make an appointment to see Susan Bones, as she is one of the only level-headed judges we can get to hear this case to get Sirius released from prison.”

 

“I see. So you want me, a known werewolf, to make this appointment.” Lupin looked at Hermione skeptically.

 

“How well known are you?” Hermione asked. 

 

“Well, it’s true that the Ministry doesn’t exactly have a file on me, but I’ve been let go of a couple jobs for not showing up for the week of a full moon. It’s kind of damning evidence, even if I haven’t come out and told them outright.  Plus, the scars are a bit of a dead giveaway.” Lupin looked miserable.

 

“Yeah, but we can still use reasonable doubt,” Hermione replied. “It’s a Muggle thing. The idea that people can suspect something, but if they don’t know for sure, they can’t do much.  And since you’ll be bringing up something completely unrelated, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“You sound so sure of yourself,” Lupin repled, his shoulders sagging.

 

“What is this? Giving up already are we, Lupin? Hermione, surely you haven’t talked him out of it?”  Severus stood in the doorway with a tea tray loaded with food, one stout teapot, three cups, a sugar tin and a creamer.

 

Both Lupin and Hermione went scarlet.

 

“That’s not-n-not true!” Lupin stuttered.

 

“I was just explaining the logistics,” Hermione said, standing up and clearing some of the books on the table in front of the couch to the side. “Remus here seems to be game, actually.”

 

“That’s right!” Lupin said a bit huffily. “You really ought to stop putting words in other people’s mouths.”

 

“Now, when I said that I didn’t want to do a Vow, I wasn’t being completely truthful,” Severus said, pouring the tea and placing them on coasters, “To keep outsiders from knowing of our plans, a Vow will be required.”

 

Lupin held out his hand, his eyes fierce. “I’m ready.”

 

“No, no, no,” Severus replied, waving his hand. “It’s not me that I want you to make a Vow with, it’s her.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “We...we hadn’t discussed…”

 

“But it’s perfect, Hermione.  Dumbledore doesn’t know about you, and I would like to keep it that way.  You are our ace in the hole, and you already know how I feel about you.”

 

Lupin looked back and forth from Hermione to Severus, obviously confused.

 

“I...I suppose, but only if you make sure that no harm comes to Harry,” Hermione said softly.

 

“Harry? How is he involved?” Lupin asked confusedly.

 

“We’ve taken him from the Dursleys,” Hermione explained. “They’ve been abusing him, starving him and leaving him dirty and alone in a closet.  No child deserves to be treated like that.”

 

Lupin looked horrified.

 

“If you’re willing to help us,” Severus started, “You will have to swear loyalty to our cause. Dumbledore, especially, must not know. If you’d like to back out now, we can Obliviate you and put you back on the street, no harm, no foul.”

 

Lupin thought for a moment and shook his head.

 

“I’m not going to run away this time,” he said, his arms crossed tightly. “Just tell me what to do and I will do it.  Anything to keep that madman from coming back and killing again.”

 

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Severus said with a grin that looked somewhat awkward but genuine.

 

“Me too!” Hermione said, beaming as she leapt forward and swept a very surprised Lupin into a hug. “This is going to be so great, you just wait and see!”

 

Lupin blushed as Hermione pulled away and she looked back to see Severus scowling at Lupin murderously as he gripped his teacup in a rigid fist.

 

“It’s fine, Severus, I was just excited, that’s all,” she said, stroking his shoulder, which seemed to relax him slightly.

 

Just then, a cry sounded from above them and Lupin’s eyes went wide with an unasked question.

 

“Say, would you like to see Harry?” Hermione asked.

 

“Oh, Merlin, it’s been forever,” Lupin replied, his eyes tearing up. “Yes...yes, please!”

 

Hermione looked at Severus, who harrumphed into his tea, obviously in an attempt to look disgruntled, and rolled her eyes.

 

“I’ll go get him, then,” she said with a grin, turning and climbing the stairs.

 

She thought she heard Lupin say something softly from the front room, but couldn’t quite make it out even as she strained to hear.

 

“Yes, yes she is,” Severus replied. “The most precious of all.”

 

Hermione flushed and continued up the stairs, her heart racing at the unexpected praise and the knowledge that Lupin would be joining their cause.  Slowly but surely, everything was coming together, even though it was far from over, and her heart soared at the thought of a world free from war.

 

“One step closer,” she whispered to Harry, scooping him up in her arms and swinging him around until he giggled, “We’re nearly free!”


	29. A Dog Has His Day

**** Sirius Orion Black knew that he was not a good man.  After all, he’d killed a man in cold blood.  

 

No, that wasn’t exactly right.  When he killed Peter, he’d killed with his blood boiling with rage and sorrow and despair.

 

But it hadn’t helped.  Not in the end.

 

There was nothing in the world that could fill the hole that had been blasted in his heart after losing his first and very best friend in the whole entire world.

 

James Potter may have been a bit of a git and a little fat-headed sometimes, but he was the first person to look at Sirius as though he weren’t just some heir in an endless line of heirs to be festooned with the Black family name.  James had looked at Sirius and cracked jokes, had gotten up to hijinks with him and never ratted him out.  They’d served endless detentions together after one hair-brained scheme or another, but even that wasn’t so bad because they were together.

 

The whole Lily Evans thing had irritated Sirius to no end at first, but that was because he’d never met a girl that he wanted to see for more than a night.  The truth was, he hadn’t really expected to  _ love _ anyone until he’d finally realized that he was in love with Remus Lupin (and even then, it was only at James’ insistence that Sirius had finally admitted the truth in the face of the overwhelming evidence).  Sirius didn’t consider himself a homosexual, not really.  The idea of looking at James (or any other bloke, for that matter) with doe-eyes was laughable. In fact, he simply considered Remus an exception.  

 

An exception who could actually capture his heart.

 

Sirius cursed his impulsiveness a thousand times.  He’d thrown everything away to rot in Azkaban, and for what? Petty revenge?  The worst of it was being paraded around as the one who had led Voldemort to Godric’s Hollow- the rat who had given up their location.  No one had checked Sirius for a Dark Mark.  After all, not all of the Death Eaters had them, and Sirius had been blind with rage, his mind in a fugue of fury, that by the time he’d come to his senses, he was being pushed off of the gangplank and led into the evil place that he had called home for the past couple of years. The Dementors didn’t like him all that much, but they’d come by and suck the energy out of him until he merely laid on the dirty, hard cot in his cell, listlessly staring at the ceiling. The only happy thoughts he allowed himself to have were that Harry was safe from harm, but even those were snatched away from the Dementors, whose chilling presence reminded him that Harry was an orphan, and that the majority of people blamed him for it.

 

It was, therefore, an utter surprise when one morning (he wasn’t sure if it was actually morning, as time seemed to stand still in Azkaban) a wizard came to his cell and placed him in handcuffs, leading him out of the prison and into the transport ship.  He was allowed to shower and shave in the bowels of the Ministry and placed in clean gray robes before being led up to an audience chamber.  Sirius stared in surprise at the woman looking down at him from the judge’s box. Amelia Bones had been the one to send him to Azkaban in the first place.

 

“Please state your full name for the record,” she said politely.

 

“Sirius Orion Black,” he replied, looking around in confusion.

 

“Are you aware of the reason why you are here today, Mr. Black?” Judge Bones said, looking over her half-moon glasses at him.

 

“No, ma’am.”

 

“It appears that new evidence has come to light to suggest that you did not murder Peter Pettigrew, and that he was, in fact, the Secret Keeper who did the dastardly deeds that you were placed in Azkaban for.  How do you plead?’

 

Sirius blanched.

 

“I...I thought I had killed him.  I thought that it didn’t matter if everyone hated me as long as that traitor was dead...he was one of the enemy...a Death Eater...and I felt responsible for it because I told James that it would be a brilliant bluff.”

 

“Let it be shown that the defendant has clarified his part in the events on October 31st. Now we shall hear from the appealing party and evidence shall be presented to support this new line of inquiry.” Judge Bones banged her gavel and a man entered through a side door.

 

“ _ Remus _ !” Sirius cried out, the joy and longing in his voice almost enough to make him want to break down in sobs.  After being snack food for Dementors for the duration of his sentence so far, it was as though his mind was overcompensating and he was flooded with emotion.

 

Remus smiled that comforting and somewhat sad smile, and Sirius almost started wagging a nonexistent tail. 

 

“I would like to present Exhibit R- for Rat,” Remus said, gesturing over to a large glass enclosure with a small limp creature inside. “As you can see, this Stunned creature appears to be a normal rat, but notice how it is missing the exact digits that were found of Peter Pettigrew.  See also how the following spell, when directed at its body, promotes an unwanted change- “Finite Incantatem!”

 

The little rat body seemed to bloat out impossibly until little stubby arms and legs stuck out of a portly little man with a very rat-like face. His shabby plaid sleeves were rolled up, showing a faded Dark Mark on one arm.  It was then that Peter Pettigrew finally opened his eyes from behind the glass and screamed a high-pitched squeal-like scream, immediately scratching around and trying to find an exit. He then transformed back into a rat and frantically searched for an escape, defecating small rat pellets onto the floor in his terror.

 

“You murderer!” Sirius roared, trying to jump out of his box in vain.  The spells surrounded him so strongly that he couldn’t do a thing.

 

“Sirius, please,” Remus said quietly, and Sirius couldn’t help but do what his friend asked.

 

“All in favor of granting clemency to Sirius Black for the crimes better attributed to one Peter Pettigrew?” 

 

A chorus of “ayes” rang out in the darkness and Amelia Bones banged her gavel.

 

“I grant you your freedom, Sirius Black,” she said with authority. “The court also wishes to extend condolences for the time that you were erroneously locked up in prison. You may fill out the appropriate paperwork to receive damages for unlawful imprisonment on your way out.  Congratulations.  You are a free man.”

 

Sirius sagged with relief as five Aurors entered and levitated Peter’s glass cage together, taking it out the back exit gate.

 

Remus met him near the door and they embraced.  Sirius nearly howled with delight at the sensation of finally touching his beloved once again.  

 

“Come, now,” Remus said kindly. “You’ve had a rough night.  Let’s go to my flat to rest and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

 

“What about?” Sirius asked, as they rose in the elevator towards the ground floor of the Ministry.

 

“Why, what you’ve always dreamed of doing, Sirius,” Remus said with a smile that was less sad and more full of resolve than Sirius had ever seen before.

 

“And what is that?” Sirius asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Why, saving the world from evil, of course,” Remus replied, chuckling at the shocked expression on Sirius Black’s face.

 

“But first….” Sirius grinned wickedly.

 

“But first…?” Remus seemed confused.

 

“Snuggles,” Sirius replied, crossing his arms. “Lots of snuggles.  A million of them, if possible.  And lots of hot chocolate and throw pillows and staying in bed all day pressed up next to you.”

 

Remus laughed. “Your wish is my command, my love.” They approached the fireplaces and he threw in the Floo Powder with a flourish, shouting “Remus Lupin’s flat!”

 

Sirius blushed as they stepped into the Floo.  

 

He’d nearly forgotten how much he missed the sentimental werewolf, and the feeling of Remus slipping his fingers in between his own filled him with a profound sense of joy that he couldn’t put into words.

 

But he knew he wouldn’t have to.

 

Fo Remus had the uncanny knack of knowing what he was thinking even before he knew it himself.

 

And Sirius loved him all the more for it.


	30. Chapter 30: Your Brother Stole a Horcrux and Your Godfather Smelt of Elderberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I am aware it’s been awhile since I last updated, but I’ve been working feverishly to keep the plot and the tone on this story from veering in a strange direction. It doesn’t help that it’s been really hard to write lately due to the various negative events going on, in addition to a bunch of Real LIfe things that I’ve been forced to work on due to this very busy time of year. In any case, I hope you enjoy this little chapter, as I’ve been doing my best to write/edit/post them by myself.

Hermione wiped the sticky ring of jam from around Harry’s mouth and sighed deeply. Even though Harry was old enough to say a couple of words and toddle around, he was also both curious and clingy.  He spend most of his waking hours either attached to Hermione or Severus like a barnacle, or, alternatively, trying to kill himself on the stairs.

 

“He can’t be an otter all the time, Severus,” Hermione said crossly, as a tiny otter pup flopped down the stairs with a playful squeak. “You’ve got to let him be human sometimes too.”

 

“Fine,” Severus sighed, waiting until the otter had gotten to the bottom of the stairs before changing him back.  Harry clapped his hands and squealed.

 

“If only there was some way to keep him from hurting himself,” Hermione mused.

 

“My mother just used a modified Bubblehead Charm when I was really little,” Severus said, pointing his wand at Harry and encasing the small boy in something that looked like a shimmering, clear hamster ball.  Harry immediately began to roll around and laugh madly at his new mode of locomotion. He then proceeded to roll into the living room and slammed against the bookcase, which caused half of the books to topple out and hit the ball.

 

“Wain!” Harry cried.

 

Hermione hid her snort of laughter behind one hand and went to clean up the mess.  It had been awfully strange to see her best friend at such a young age (and she was pretty sure that if she ever got back to her normal time, Harry would be absolutely mortified to know that she’d changed his nappy many times), but Hermione had to admit that she was getting used to seeing Harry like this.  He was a happy, smiling tot, and though he was quite clingy and often whined or cried if she tried to leave him in his crib before he was completely asleep, Hermione found herself rather taken with his disposition.  She’d always been told that babies and small children were incredibly difficult to manage; that they cried and screamed and constantly caused trouble. Though Harry was a curious boy, it didn’t seem excessive.

 

“Up! Up! Na-Mama!” Harry said, and Hermione made the little ball of air disappear and picked him up in her arms to cuddle him, a small painful lump growing in her throat as she deciphered the words he’d put together in his crude grasp of language.  Harry knew that she wasn’t his mother, but to him, she was the next best thing.

 

“I won’t let those beastly Dursleys take you, oh no I won’t,” Hermione crooned.  Severus stepped into the study with a newspaper in one hand, his face unreadable.  Hermione rolled her eyes.  She knew that he was pouting, especially since Harry had taken a lot of attention to care for properly.

 

Hermione conjured up some colored paper birds that whirled and danced around Harry’s head, setting him down on the floor and affixing his the seat of his romper to the wooden floor with a Sticking Charm.

 

“There!” Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips and stretching, “I think he’s sorted, at least for now.”

 

Harry let out a cry of protest and Severus looked over the top of his paper with an arched brow.

 

“You may have spoken too soon, Hermione,” he muttered, sounding very unimpressed.

 

Hermione merely twisted her wand sending the birds into an acrobatic tailspin that sent them careening around the small boy as he tried to catch them like a pint-sized, chubby-fisted Godzilla.

 

“I can tell when you’re pouting, Severus,” Hermione said, arching her eyebrow and holding back a snicker when Severus ducked his head and hid behind his paper.

 

“Am not,” Severus replied, his voice somewhat petulant.

 

“Please, talk to me,” Hermione said, coming around behind his chair and wrapping her arms gently around him from behind as she stood on her tiptoes to hug him.

 

“It’s nothing,” Severus muttered, “I...I’m just tired from lack of sleep, that’s all.”

 

Hermione brought her lips down next to his ear and whispered in her most sultry voice. “ _Liar_.”

 

Severus shuddered as she ran her fingers gently over his shoulders and kissed his neck gently.

  
“I...I don’t know how it feels to have... _him_ in the house...in _this_ house, of all places,” Severus said, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

 

Hermione sighed and drew back, looking into his eyes with concern.

 

“There,” she said, “Now, was that so bad?”

 

Severus snorted ruefully. “No. It was worse.”  

 

Hermione looked back at Harry momentarily, twisting her wand and conjuring up tiny paper otters that gamboled and rolled around him in addition to the birds.  “In the future, he’s one of my best friends.  He saved my life so many times.  He’s like the brother I never had.”

 

Severus looked at Hermione curiously.

“What?” she asked.

 

“I...I guess I was under the impression that maybe...you...you two…” Severus trailed off, looking guilty.

 

Hermione’s eyes went wide and she let out a snort of laughter as she realized what he meant. “Oh Merlin, no! Harry and I were never...like _that_...I never even considered...oh goodness!”

 

Severus seemed to fight the quirk of his lips so that Hermione would not see him smile, but she caught it anyway and traced her fingers gently across his lips.

 

“How long have we shared a bed, Severus?” Hermione asked, fixing him with a serious look.

 

Flushing slightly, Severus seemed to think for a moment. “Nearly eight months now.”

 

“And, in all of that time, have I shown even the slightest romantic interest in anyone else?” Hermione sighed as Severus dropped his gaze to the floor, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“No,” he admitted, after a long pause. “It’s not that, not really. I...I’m horrible...with things like this...I care about you too much.  I get stupidly jealous for no logical reason.  I become protective of you to the point of being a nuisance.  This is why I hate my emotions so much- I hate being out of control.”

 

“Life is very rarely completely controllable, Severus,” Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him tightly, “but if it makes you feel any better, I’m just as terrified at how irrational I get when I love someone as you are.”

 

“You’re right about wanting to control things, change them for the better,” Severus grumbled, wrapping his arms around her, “It still doesn’t make me feel any better, though.”

 

Hermione nuzzled her nose against his cheek gently and kissed him softly. “That’s just fine with me, Severus.  Take all the time you need.”

 

Severus pulled her into his lap and they both sat together on the chair comforting one another until Harry began to protest loudly at being left out.  Of course, just as Hermione stood to retrieve the small boy, they both heard a rapid knocking on the front door to the house.  Severus bristled and was on his feet at once.   


“Take Harry upstairs to his room,” Severus hissed, his wand in his hand at once. “Ward the door.  A hidden Portkey is hidden in the place we discussed before.  You know how to activate it, just in case it’s trouble.”

 

Hermione nodded and gathered Harry into her arms.  They’d talked at length about what might possibly happen, especially with Harry no longer at the Dursleys’ home, and Hermione just couldn’t help but think that it was possible that something bad could happen while Harry was with them.  Both of them had racked their brains coming up with contingency plans in case of an attack, and Severus had warned her that Albus Dumbledore might even get involved, as he’d been instrumental in forcing the boy to stay there in the first place.  Hermione had not really considered how angry the Headmaster might be if he found out about Harry, but she was certain that he would not be pleased. Still, the idea of Harry being returned to those horrible people made her want to vomit.

 

She warded the door and waited, trying to ignore the pain from Harry pulling roughly on her hair and making gurgling coos of contentment.

 

* * *

 

Severus cast a charm on the door to make it appear like a one-way mirror- he could see out but anyone outside could only see a solid door.  He saw who was standing out on the doorstep and swore loudly.

 

“OI!” called Sirius Black. “We can hear you in there, Snape! You’d better open up if you know what’s good for you!”

 

“Shhh, Sirius, don’t!” Remus Lupin’s voice was hushed and flustered.

 

“C’mon, then, open up!” Sirius yelled, ignoring Remus and knocking on the door again.

 

Severus opened the door a crack. “Give me a reason not to slam this door in your face.”

 

“You need something from me, and I need something from you,” Sirius said hotly, “Remus here can’t tell me anything about it, _literally_ , so I made him bring me to the person who could.”

 

“Come in, then,” Severus said, his face still full of suspicion as he held the door open and they stepped into the front room. “And don’t touch anything!” he hissed at Sirius, who had crossed the room and tried to pick something up off of the mantle of the fireplace.

 

Sirius sneered, but put the item down and turned to face Severus with his arms crossed.

 

“ _Well_?” he asked snootily.

 

“You will need to make a Vow with Hermione before I say anything further,” Severus said, stepping to the stairs and calling up to let Hermione know that the coast was clear.

 

“And why would I be barmy enough to do such a thing?” Sirius replied suspiciously. “You may have fooled ol’ Mooney here, but you won’t fool me!  Tell me now, or I’ll have to use my wand to do something you’ll regret.”

 

“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice full of warning.

 

“What? Can’t I put this greasy, no-account Death Eater in his place?” Sirius snarled.

 

“Who is that, Severus?” Hermione said as she finally reached the last stair and turned into the front room with Harry in her arms.

 

Sirius gaped at the two of them and then looked back at Severus again.

 

“Why do you….that’s Harry and...she’s...who?” Sirius looked horribly confused.

 

“I shall repeat myself for your benefit, Black,” Severus said, crossing his arms. “Take your Vow with Hermione and then I shall be sure to share everything with you about how we are going to save this world.”

 

Sirius looked shocked, as though Severus had just confessed to having a collection of lacy bonnets.  

 

“Do you want to hold Harry?” Hermione asked helpfully. “I know you’ve had a rough time in prison.”

 

Sirius looked Hermione up and down and grinned sheepishly. “Well, if I have to make a Vow with someone who looks like you, I suppose it can’t be helped,” he said, a rakish grin on his face.

 

Hermione arched her eyebrow. “Sorry, big boy,” she replied, “but that kind of talk doesn’t exactly affect me. After all, I’m not really a dog person.”

 

Sirius frowned and said nothing.

 

“She _knows_ , Sirius,” Remus said.

 

“You mean...about….?” Sirius paled.

 

“Just take the Vow, Sirius,” Remus replied with a long-suffering sigh.

 

“Fine. _Then_ can I hold Harry? I haven’t done it in a long time! I am, after all, his godfather!” Sirius huffed.

 

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Hermione said, smiling kindly at Sirius as she grabbed his arm in a frighteningly strong grip before whispering menacingly into his ear, “but if you ever try and shamelessly flirt with me in front of Severus again, I may just have to neuter you without anesthetic.”

 

Sirius paled and nodded.

 

“Good,” Hermione said, smiling again. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

 

Severus officiated the Vow between Sirius and Hermione while Remus held Harry and bounced him on his knee.  He couldn’t help but notice how Sirius flinched slightly when Hermione grabbed his wrist.  He’d known that he’d chosen well before, but the way that Hermione’s eyes flashed, daring Sirius to try something, _anything_ , made him feel oddly safe.  He knew he shouldn’t feel like that, seeing he was a grown man and should have been the one to keep her safe, but Hermione was like a force of nature unto herself.  Her power seemed to radiate from her very bones, and it filled him with a sense of security that thrummed beautifully in his chest.

 

“How about that hug, then?” Sirius said, when it was over.

 

Severus smirked when Harry bawled and tried to get away from Sirius, snatching him away from the startled Gryffindor and bouncing Harry expertly on his hip.  Harry gripped Snape’s finger and leaned adorably on him while Sirius pouted about Harry preferring the Greasy Git to his own godfather.

 

Hermione immediately threatened to hex Sirius in a very intimate place, and Sirius begrudgingly apologized, though he did not look happy about it at all.  Eventually, Harry warmed up to Sirius, though, and both Severus and Hermione told Sirius everything they could.

 

“...and that is why we need to get to Grimmauld Place and remove that horrid locket. We are trying to destroy...the remaining shards of...You-Know-Who,”  Hermione finished, looking up at Sirius, whose face had gone from bored to horrified.

 

“Of course,” he said, looking somewhat pale. “Anything.  Anything to stop that monster from coming back.”

 

Hermione grinned, and this time it was a genuine expression of warmth.

 

“All right, then, gentlemen,” she said, her eyes flashing with purpose. “Let’s go save the world!”


	31. Very Grim Places, Indeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Many apologies for not posting another chapter for quite some time.  Things have been...difficult here. I recently just finished recovering from a serious finger injury that left me with five stitches and a gnarly scar on my dominant hand.  Needless to say, between that and the fact that I’ve been overextending myself at work and at home, it’s been a tough time getting ideas for this story.  I have not abandoned it, it’s just hard to get the time to focus on making this the best story it can be.  And I think you’re worth it, dear reader, so I’m not willing to settle for anything less than quality content.  With that, have some plot! :)

 

“For the last time, Severus, I am not staying here with Harry!” Hermione said firmly, standing in the hallway as Severus paced in front of her with a concerned expression on his face.

 

“Black’s house is no place for a defenseless child,” Severus replied, crossing his arms. “It’s full of Dark things that will probably turn curse our Harry into oblivion.”

 

Hermione opened her mouth to protest and then stopped, a small smirk pulling up one side of her mouth as she held back a tiny snicker. “Oh? He’s  _ our _ Harry now?”

  
Severus looked away with a huff of indignation. “Don’t read too much into it.”

 

“Well, it’s true,” Hermione said softly, prompting Severus to meet her eyes. “If the past couple of months has taught us anything, it’s that he’s  _ ours _ , even if it isn’t by blood. I mean, just look at the resemblance.”

 

Severus turned to look at Harry, who was looking through a cardboard baby book that Hermione had purchased from a Muggle shop. Harry frowned as he turned the page clumsily with a chubby hand, lost in thought as Sirius tried to distract him with a poorly executed game of peek-a-boo. Harry gave Sirius a skeptical look before going back to his book.

 

“Well...I guess you’re not wrong,” Severus admitted. Even though the boy’s eyes were still a greenish gray, he could tell that Harry would probably eventually have his mother’s eyes, but Severus had caught the tot emulating his signature scowl and with the black hair Severus did have to admit that there was a certain measure of resemblance. “Still, someone needs to stay behind.”

 

“Well, it’s your house, so I think you should stay for three reasons,” Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips. “First off, it’s Sirius’ house, which is Unplottable, so we need him to be there to open the door. Secondly, I am the one who knows how to get the locket both quickly and efficiently.”

 

“And? What is the third reason?” Severus replied, his shoulders slumping slightly. Hermione  _ did _ have a point.

 

Hermione shot him a look before continuing. “And, finally, know you wouldn’t leave Lupin here alone in your home, and you know it.  Besides, you  _ hate _ Sirius.”

 

“Yeah...but….what about your….safety?” Severus finished lamely, knowing he’d already lost.

 

Hermione’s eyes flashed and she pulled out her wand. “I don’t make a habit of being a damsel in distress. Ever. And I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon. Would you like a demonstration?”

Severus gulped and then shook his head, running his fingers through his hair to stop his hand from shaking. “I know you’ll be fine, Hermione. I  _ know _ , and yet I still…”

 

“I understand. I really do,” Hermione replied putting her hand firmly on his shoulder, squeezing him gently. “Your loss is still fresh, but I promise-”

 

“ _ Please _ .” Severus tried to control the waver in his voice. “No promises- I have bad luck when people make them. Just be careful and come back to us.”

 

“Have fun babysitting while we go do all the heavy lifting!” Sirius said, his handsome face twisting into a slight sneer as they stepped out into the backyard.

 

“Don’t worry,” Severus replied, deadpan. “I’m sure Hermione has everything well in hand.”

 

Sirius growled as Lupin held him by the arm. 

 

“Don’t.” Remus tugged Sirius back gently. “From what I can tell, he’s actually right this time.”

 

“This time,” Sirius scoffed, before Hermione grabbed his sleeve and gave him a fierce look.

 

“Less talking, more Side-Along Apparating,” she growled.

 

“Blimey, she’s even sounding like him!” Sirius said, his disdain morphing into surprise. 

 

Severus stopped Harry from rolling out the door by placing one dragon-skinned boot on the top of his magical toddler sized hamster ball. Harry squealed with amusement at this and backed up at top speed, zooming down the hall to the kitchen as Severus followed, slamming the front door and warding it with his wand pointed over the back of his shoulder.

 

“Oh Merlin! This kid is going to be the death of me!” Severus growled as Harry became stuck under the kitchen table and a burst of accidental magic made all of the knives fly out of the wood block on the counter and embed themselves in the ceiling.

 

He began to think that perhaps Hermione had known all along exactly how difficult his task would be, and hoped desperately that she’d be home soon.

* * *

 

Hermione took a deep breath as she twisted into existence and landed on her feet, but both Sirius and Remus landed in a heap on the sidewalk. Hermione was glad that she’d let go of Sirius’ sleeve as soon as her feet touched the ground.

 

“No fair!” Sirius said as she extended her arm to help him up. “Why aren’t you a mess like we are?”

 

“There’s no shame in being out of practice,” Hermione said with a shrug as she pulled Lupin up as well. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that I am no pushover, like certain unregistered Animaguses I could mention.”

 

Sirius made an offended noise and went for his wand, but Hermione was too quick for him. Sirius’ wand flew from his hand and Hermione caught it, arching her eyebrow at him as he stared at her with shock.

 

“For once, mate, I’d say you ought to hold your tongue,” Remus said with a hesitant smirk. “She’s more Gryffindor than you can handle.”

 

Hermione flushed. “Is it  _ that _ obvious?”

 

“I had my suspicions, but it looks like you confirmed it for me,” Remus replied, as Hermione tossed Sirius’ wand back to him.  Sirius fumbled with the wand between both hands before catching it and turning with a haughty sniff.

 

“I’ll have you know that I’m only letting you in because my hatred of my parents and their stupid Death Eater sympathies outweighs your uncalled-for behavior,” Sirius said, walking ahead stiffly.

 

“Translation: his giant ego has been bruised by your superior skill so please be a little kinder to the poor chap,” Lupin whispered behind his hand.

 

“Hmph,” Hermione snorted. “Not likely.”

 

“I must confess that you even scare me a bit,” Remus replied shaking his head with a small grin turning up the corners of his mouth. “You’re a smart girl, Hermione, but I know Sirius very well. He’s loyal but he holds grudges. He’ll come around eventually, but it will have to be on his terms.”

 

“Oi! Are you two slowpokes coming or not?” Sirius called back to them, oblivious.

 

Hermione and Remus looked at each other and shook their heads. 

 

This was going to be a long day, indeed.

“I haven’t been here since I ran away,” Sirius confessed, grimacing as he ran his finger over the thick dust on the mantle of the fireplace in the study. “I’d like to tell you that it wasn’t always this bad, but it’s pretty much the same as always, only dustier.”

 

Hermione had known pretty much what to expect, but she was actually surprised at how much more stuff was cluttering up the halls and rooms than what she’d seen during her participation in the great clean-up of Grimmauld Place in her fifth year.

 

“I haven’t been here since I was fifteen,” Hermione breathed, prompting the two wizards to give her incredulous looks. “You let us stay here and use it as a headquarters for the Order. You basically lived here.”

 

Sirius made a disbelieving noise. “Like I’d ever stay here voluntarily.”

 

“It wasn’t. Voluntary, I mean. You’d escaped Azkaban, like I mentioned before.  This is where you stayed to avoid detection.”

 

Sirius looked horrified at that admission, his eyes going wild and far away with memory. “No...I...I can never go back there...I won’t...I’d rather  _ die… _ ”

 

Remus put his arms around Sirius and then led him gently to a dusty sofa to comfort him as he held his head in his hands.  “It’s not going to happen, love. We fixed it.”

 

Hermione stood awkwardly in the center of the room feeling guilty at having laid it on so thickly.  Sirius was certainly annoying and self-centered, but he didn’t deserve to be traumatized so flippantly. 

 

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” she said softly, approaching them both with a look of shame on her face.  “That was uncalled-for.  In any case, that’s why I wanted to do all of this.  To fix things so that we don’t have to relive the horrors of that future.”

 

Sirius cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed at himself for allowing his emotions to overtake him. “I know, it’s just...that place...those... _ things… _ .”

 

“Do you think that you could call Kreacher here and ask him to talk to me?” Hermione asked, fighting the urge to simply yell at the man to get ahold of himself. “It will help us finish up our work so we can leave this awful place.”

 

Sirius nodded. “Kreacher!” he called out hoarsely.

 

The house elf, who was sufficiently less wrinkled and gnarled-looking than when Hermione had last seen him, popped into existence in front of Sirius.

 

“I comes only because you are the only master who is free, as I am bound to the Black name,” Kreacher growled, looking distrustfully at Hermione and Remus. “I smell the wolf on the half breed over there. But the girl….”

 

Kreacher turned and squinted at Hermione before taking a step back and looking uncertain. “Her smells...she...is not of this place.”

 

“Stop being creepy, Kreacher,” Sirius said irritably. “I order you to speak with Hermione here and do as she asks. 

 

“Hello Kreacher,” Hermione said cordially, receiving a scowl for her attempt at politeness. “I am here today to talk to you about Master Regulus.”

 

Kreacher's eyes went wide.  Sirius and Remus boggled at her as well.

 

“I know that he gave something to you to destroy,” Hermione continued, “but no matter what you did, you couldn’t break it.  So you kept it.”

 

Kreacher's ears extended out on both sides of his head until they were completely unfurled and he made a small gasping noise at the back of his throat.  “Master tells Kreacher...destroy...but Kreacher cannot. Kreacher hides instead. Kreacher keeps safe.”

 

“Kreacher, I want you to listen very carefully,” Hermione said, getting down to eye level with the house elf. “I am here to finish Master Regulus’ last request. That locket belongs to the evil man who killed your Master.  If we do not destroy it, this evil man will be able to come back again and again. I will, however, do all in my power to destroy the monster inside and return the locket to you unharmed. Would these be acceptable terms for you?”

 

“Hermione, you don’t have to bargain with a house elf!” Sirius said with a snort, “I’ll just-”

 

“No.” Hermione held up her hand, catching Sirius off-guard. “This is between myself and Kreacher.  I need him to understand and accept the terms.”

 

Kreacher frowned at Hermione before nodding slowly. “Kreacher accepts.”

 

He snapped his fingers and a locket appeared, floating in the air between himself and Hermione.  Hermione grabbed for the Mithril bag in her pocket and scooped it inside without touching it.

 

“Thank you,” she said to Kreacher, who scowled. “For Master Regulus.”

 

Kreacher seemed to stiffen for a moment before a strange expression came to his face, one that could have almost been a smile.

 

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “For Master Regulus.”

 

Kreacher turned reluctantly around and stared at Sirius, who looked shell-shocked. “Master Sirius doesn’t know. Master Regulus...he...he leaves a letter for you. Kreacher not thinking that Master Sirius deserves it until today when Master brings this Most Kind Mistress.”

 

Kreacher snapped again, and an envelope fell into Sirius’ lap.  “Master Sirius deserves letter. Call Kreacher when Kreacher needed. Kreacher must do right by Master now.”

 

With that, the elf bowed and disappeared, though Hermione could hear all manner of racket on the second floor that sounded very much like an army of brooms and dusters all going at once.

 

“If you’re not going to leave here, can’t you just set him free?” Hermione asked.

 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Sirius replied, frowning. “Didn’t anyone tell you that freeing a House Elf that has been tied to a family’s service with blood magic renders them unable to do magic or eat until they’ve been tied to someone else?  House elves have literally been bred for thousands of years to function as part of a wizarding household. They literally die of starvation when left on their own.”

 

Hermione was horrified. “But...I….I’ve met a house elf who didn’t have a master...he was...free!”

 

Sirius smirked and shook his head “That’s a lot of rot and you know it.  Think back. Is there any special person who this “free” house elf grew close to and who he came to when called?”

 

Hermione flinched and SIrius shrugged. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. They start acting weird when they’re left idle, too. That’s why they’re so gung-ho to be industrious.”

 

“But...they’re exploited!” Hermione protested. She still hated the idea of an intelligent creature being treated like a slave.

 

“You say that, but you’ve never seen a wood elf,” Remus said. “They’re a wild breed of elf that is related to house elves.  They delight in making mischief and tricks for travelers and lead them astray, usually off cliffs or into pit traps.  Then, they kill and eat them. They almost exclusively feed on adult humans, but they love fresh babies and have been known to play a trick where they take the babe and leave one of their own with a blanket of glamour magic over their skin.  The changeling grows up to its adult size, which is about as big as a human child, and then kidnaps its family to be eaten by its tribe at a homecoming feast. Muggles can only see them with a glamour placed over their bodies to make them appear human. Otherwise, they are invisible to Muggles and some weaker magical folks.  They are savage and bloodthirsty, and always hungry. House elves would never be able to survive in the wild or even in regular Wizarding society.  Their intelligence is only sophisticated enough to allow for simple tasks, and their magic is powerful but limited to proximity to their families. It would be cruel to set them free or give them jobs. They don’t have the intellectual capacity to understand legal agreements or contracts, and cannot be taught to do so, as evidenced by several families that tried to use house elves as tutors back in the 1700’s.”

 

“Yeah, but-” Hermione frowned, trying to think of how to counter Remus.

 

“And, if you didn’t already know, a house elf takes physical pleasure out of serving,” Sirius said, looking smug. “The same joy you might get out of an ice cream sundae is the feeling a house elf gets out of sweeping a floor.  They practically get orgasmic when you ask them to clean up after a raucous house party that half-destroys a house.  Just ask me how I know.”

 

Hermione blinked, at a loss for words.  She’d read about house elves, but none of them had discussed about any of this information.  She did have to admit that she’d given up reading about them much after her indignation and outrage had grown from watching how people treated house elves in the Wizarding War.

 

“So…” she said finally, “then leaving Kreacher all alone in this house without anyone to serve for over a decade…”

 

“Yeah, that would be enough to drive a house elf mad, I wager,” Sirius said matter-of-factly. “My parents always kept the heads of our previous house elves preserved and on display as a sign of respect.  Unfortunately, I imagine that the charm work dispelled when they died and left Kreacher alone.”

 

“Do you think you’ll come back to live here?” Hermione asked, somewhat unsure about whether she wanted to hear the answer to her question.

 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can do much about the bad memories I have of the past,” Sirius said, but, as much as it galls me, you’re right. It would be cruel to leave Kreacher here alone.  I haven’t really made my mind up about it, but I...perhaps.”

 

Sirius stroked the envelope, which had his name hastily scrawled on one side.

 

“I...I want to read this….alone,” he said, looking at Remus with an undefinable emotion on his face.

 

“I understand. We’ll go to the kitchen and see if we can fix something up, won’t we, Hermione?” Remus stood and ushered Hermione out of the study, her lip still worrying against her teeth gently as she absorbed all of the information she’d just received.

* * *

 

“Do you think that we can really change things? I mean...even though I don’t know close to half of everything I need to know?” Hermione asked, as Remus wiped off a dust-encrusted teapot and brought it to the sink to rinse it off.

 

Remus chuckled. “I’ll let you borrow the books I have on dark magical creatures- it’s always been a personal hobby of mine, for obvious reasons.  As for being able to change things, I think that you’ve already changed quite a lot, haven’t you? Especially when it comes to...well...Snape. I’ve never seen anyone practically  _ glowing _ with love for anyone before, much less  _ him _ , for obvious reasons.”

 

Remus winked at Hermione and chuckled when she turned abruptly to Scourgify a countertop off with her wand to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.

 

“Speaking of Severus, I hope he’s doing fine with Harry all by himself,” Hermione said, trying to get ahold of herself.  She knew how she felt about Severus, of course, but for it to be so obvious to everyone made her feel a bit self-conscious.

 

“I’d never thought of Snape as being much of a fatherly sort,” Remus replied thoughtfully, “but you know, when I see you three together, I can see it, if that makes any sense.  You’re good for him, Hermione.  And you already know that I’m forever indebted to you for more than I can properly say.”

 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, causing Remus to jump, “I just remembered! In my bag...I have it!” 

 

“Have...what, exactly?” Remus asked, still looking startled.

 

“Are you familiar with a little concoction called Wolfsbane Potion?” Hermione asked, relishing the look of utter wonder and surprise on Remus’ face.

 

“You don’t mean to say-” Remus stared at Hermione as she nodded, grinning widely.

 

When Sirius finally joined them in the kitchen with the opened letter in one hand, he found Remus twirling Hermione around and around, his face full of joy as they laughed together.

 

“Do you two mind letting me in on the joke?” Sirius asked, trying to look bored, though it was obvious that he was intensely curious.

 

“Sirius! It’s Hermione!” Remus cried out happily.

 

“Yes, I’m well aware that-”

 

“No, you don’t understand! She can cure me….well..maybe not exact cure, but-”

 

“Oi, what are you on about, mate?” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes.

 

“She brought back a book!” Remus exclaimed, his eyes bright. 

 

“A...book.  Nice.” Sirius seemed bored at the mere mention of such a thing.

 

“No, you don’t  _ understand _ ! There’s a potion...it…lets me keep my mind when I...change. I won’t be a danger to anyone during the full moon! This is HUGE, Sirius!”

 

“Oh.”

 

There was a loud thud, causing both Hermione and Remus to pause and turn to look at Sirius. Sure enough, he’d passed out with a look of utter surprise on his face.

 

“Looks like the shock was a bit too much for him,” Hermione said with a smirk.

 

Remus grinned. “Well, what do you expect? This amount of hope and optimism was obviously too much for his poor brain to handle after being dementor food for so long.”

 

“I guess we’d better pick him up off the floor,” Hermione mused.

 

“Nah, let him lie there. He’ll get all mopey if he thinks we had to save him.” Remus turned back to the kettle which was bubbling merrily on the stove.

 

“You really know him well, don’t you?” Hermione asked, sitting down at the table and looking at the prone form of Sirius on the floor.

 

“Yeah, he’s an idiot, but I love him.  What is a werewolf to do?” Remus said with a flippant shrug.

 

Hermione laughed at that, and began to imagine how the two people she loved most in the world were doing at that moment.  

 

Oh well, she was certain she’d hear an earful about it when she returned.


End file.
